


Bleeding in the Rain

by theHunter_and_theNinja



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Michonne and Rick to the rescue, Slow Burn, Young Daryl Dixon, Young Paul Rovia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-10-18 04:35:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 47,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17573990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theHunter_and_theNinja/pseuds/theHunter_and_theNinja
Summary: After being thrown out of the house by his father in the middle of a dangerous thunder storm, Daryl Dixon attempts to find shelter in a town that hates him. Sitting under an awning outside of an abandoned bar, Daryl wonders why nodody seems to want him as the rain beats down all around him. But that night, his life changes forever when a couple visiting town, Michonne and Rick Grimes, stop and offer him refuge from the storm.————————————————Paul Rovia officially enters the story in chapter 11!





	1. Blood in the Water

This morning Daryl’s father had grabbed him by his hair and thrown him out into the raging thunder storm after beating him until his back bled because there wasn’t any more beer in the fridge. He’d landed directly in a puddle of mud. The mud mixed with his blood to form a slimy reddish-brown liquid that ran down his back to his legs and spread onto his chest, effectively covering his body in the disgusting mixture.

Thunder boom and lightning crashed over head and, despite being only 12 years of age, he knew he couldn’t risk running into the woods. It’s late November already and the temperature has been dropping fast the past few weeks. If he stayed outside, he could catch something serious and he knew his father would let him die before pay for any expensive medical bills. So, he’d done the only thing he could think to do in such a bad storm—he ran into town to seek shelter from the storm.

He knew he wasn’t well liked in town because of his family, but he prayed that someone would take pity on him in the storm. He wasn’t normally one to accept people’s pity, but right now he’d accept any sort of help from anyone to get out of the dangerous storm. He’d run into the first open building he saw, breathing harshly from running. It was one of the local restaurants, _John’s Bar and Grille._ The place didn’t have the best food, but it good enough to keep the locals coming back. The large selection of alcohol didn’t hurt either though.

As soon as he’d set foot inside the door, not even having a moment to catch his breath, John was on him. Yelling at him for even coming in the door in his state of uncleanliness and tracking mud inside his restaurant.

“Please! I’ll do whatever you want,” he had pleaded to no avail, “Just let me stay until the rain stops. Please!”

John had just grabbed him by the back of his muddy shirt, pulled the door open, and shoved him back out into the storm.

“I don’t want no damn, dirty Dixon messing up my restaurant. Get out!” John yelled before slamming the door in his face.

Crossing his arms over his chest and shivering violently from the cold rain, Daryl moved onto another building: the local grocery store, _Farm Fresh Market._

The woman who normally ran the storm was an older woman by the name of Anne. She would often give him leftover sandwiches from the day before whenever he stopped in so he hoped she’d let him take shelter, too. Today, however, she was nowhere to be found and Daryl wondered if she’d stayed home because of the storm. In her place, was her daughter, Susan. Susan was not as kind to him as her mother was. In fact, whenever he’d been around when the two were together he often heard Susan warning Anne against helping him. She’d chased him from the store many times in the past when her mother wasn’t around upon discovering he had no money to pay for anything. He’d prayed that the storm would ease her hatred for him, despite his current state of dress.

He’d been in the store all of a minute before Susan found him.

“You got any money?” she’d asked, her upper lip curled back in disgust at the sight of him.

He’d hung his head and whispered out a meek, “No, ma’am.”

“Then leave,” she demanded, crossing her arms.

“I don’t want to buy anything. I was just hoping to sit out of the rain,” he looked up at her hopefully, “Please? I promise I’ll stay out of customers’ lines of sight.”

“No! Look at you. You’re covered in filth and dripping mud onto my clean floor. Now get out,” and she pointed towards the door, glaring at him with her sharp brown eyes, nostrils flaring in anger and revulsion.

He’d hung his head, “Yes, ma’am,” and left the store.

He tried all the other open buildings in town. He tried the only other restaurant in town, _Sunny-Side Buffet;_ the barbershop, _Smooth Clips;_ thebookstore, _Imagine Reading;_ and even the town hall, _Haralson’s Meeting House._ He was kicked out of every place. He was called horrible names by people who seemed to be kind to everyone except for him simply because his father was the town drunk and his brother was in juvie for selling drugs and for attempting to rob _John’s Bar and Grille._ An offense that only made his attempt to find refuge there even less likely to work, but he’d still had to try.

The lady running _Sunny-Side Buffet_ today had even called him “a dirty, stinking mongrel,” before threatening to call the cops on him.

So now, as Daryl sat under the small awning of an abandoned bar on the edge of town, he wondered why everyone hated him for things that weren’t his fault. He wasn’t the one who grabbed at the mayor’s wife’s ass while drunk, that was his father’s doing; he’d only been four at the time anyway. It wasn’t him to got busted with two pounds of weed and an illegal gun stashed in the seat of his motorcycle; he’d only been ten at the time anyway.

_So why were people holding his family’s mistakes against him?_

Maybe it had something to do with his mother, but she died when he was seven. However, the fire that killed her was her fault and had spread to their neighbor’s house before the fire department could drop it. Their neighbor’s cat had died from smoke inhalation, but his mother had died as well. His 12 year old mind couldn’t figure out why he was so hated when he’d never done anything himself to deserve it.

Sure, he wasn’t the cleanest kid around, but he’d shower more often if his father ever remembered to pay the water bill. He knew that today he was especially dirty, but he’d probably would have gotten the same reactions if he’d been squeaky clean as well. What really hurt him was that nobody looked past the mud to notice the blood that was mixed in with it. His back had long since stopped bleeding, but the evidence of blood was still mixed into his clothes.

It was relatively dry under the awning, but not dry enough to not feel a mild drizzle from the way the wind was blowing the water. He longed to be inside, but knew nowhere would allow him entry. He pulled his knees into his chest, his head hung forward over his bent legs in defeat while his back rested against the damp, cold, brick exterior of the abandoned bar. He felt a tear roll off his cheek and land on his knee followed by another and another until he was sobbing, his cries muffled by the sound of the storm.

He cried until his eyes burned and he couldn’t breathe. When he felt like he couldn’t cry anymore he lifted one of his arms to wipe his eyes. He opened his eyes and watched silently as the mud and blood mixed with the rain water and disappeared into a nearby grate. The reddish-brown liquid turning the water a light brown color. He watched the excess filth running off him for what felt like forever, completely entranced with how it would swirl around the grate before disappearing inside.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sat there, hugging his knees to his chest, watching the rain wash away the dirt when he hear someone approaching. He immediately curled in on himself tighter in an attempt to remain unnoticed. He didn’t want to have to leave the semi-dry space under the awning. The building was in foreclosure anyway, nobody should care if he sat here.

Slowly, a person came into view. It was a woman and Daryl watched as she got closer. He didn’t know who she was as her face was hidden by her umbrella. He figured she’d just pass him by and continue on her way, but—much to his surprise—she stopped right in front of him.

Ever so slowly he looked up at the woman, _“What could she want?”_

His gaze was met with a kind gaze and a bright smile as the woman lowered herself to his height. Now that he could see her face, he could tell she couldn’t be more than 25 years old and that she was knew in town. She has to be; he's never seen her around town before. Her brown eyes were soft with sympathy as she began to speak.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked, pushing a few of her dreadlocks out of her face and behind her ear.

“Waiting for the storm to pass,” he answered, his fingers playing nervously with the hem of his shirt.

The woman frowned, “this storm is supposed to last into tomorrow afternoon and it’s only going to get worse. Don’t you have someplace you could go?”

“No, ma’am. My father threw me out of the house and told me not to come back for at least a week.”

“What about someone in town? Surely you have some friends who could help you.”

“You’re obviously new here if you think anyone in this town would be friends with a Dixon,” he whispered, picking at the strings at the bottom of his fraying jeans.

“My husband and I are just here visiting for vacation. I don’t see any reason for everyone to hate you,” the woman offered him a kind smile, “You sure you’ve got nowhere to go?”

“Yes ma’am. But if the storm gets too bad I’ll just pick the lock on the door and sleep on the floor of the bar.”

The woman looked appalled at his plan. She bit her lip in thought before standing up and extending her hand.

“Come with me,” she said, wiggling her fingers a bit, signaling for him to take her hand.

After a few moments of hesitation, he reached up and grasped the woman’s hand. Anything had to be better than sleeping on the floor of a bar that was shut down due to unhygienic practices. The place was probably crawling with bugs and rats and who knows what else.

After he took her hand she spoke again, “My name’s Michonne, by the way. What’s yours?”

“Daryl.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Daryl,” she said smiling down at him.

“It’s nice to meet you too, ma’am,” he said and squeezed her hand lightly in thanks.

Together, safely shielded under her umbrella, they walked for about 15 minutes to a cabin set back into the forest a good ways. It was a small cabin, only one story tall with a gravel driveway leading up to it. The lights were on which meant there was somebody else in the house too. Daryl started to feel a bit nervous. After all, he’d just accepted a complete stranger’s offer of shelter and walked into the woods with them.

He subtly reached down to the side of his right leg where he normally kept a small knife and sure enough, it was still there. Michonne led him up to the door of the cabin and knocked. A man, slightly older than Michonne, answered the door. He looked down at him in confusion and then back up at Michonne. She nodded only once and said, “Let us come in and I’ll explain,” before the man stepped aside to allow them entry.

He was terrified, but allowed Michonne to lead him inside anyway; his need for warmth outweighing is normal fight or flight instincts.

The inside of the cabin was quaint with pictures of nature hanging on the walls and above an old brick fireplace. The floor was mostly hardwood except for the large blue area rug in front of the fireplace on which sat a large couch and an armchair. To the left was a small kitchen and Daryl could see more doors towards the back of the house, probably leading to some bedrooms and a bathroom.

“Michonne, who is this?” the man asked.

“This is Daryl. I found his sitting under an awning in front of some abandoned building on the outskirts of town. I couldn’t just leave him, Rick.”

The man, Rick, sighed looking at the state of his clothes and overall hygiene, “come with me,” he said.

Daryl followed him obediently towards the back of the house, still on the lookout for possible threats. Rick led him into a bathroom and told him to take a shower while he tried to find something for him to wear. Apparently the man had a son around his age who sometimes stayed here and left some clothes here just in case. Daryl couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t here now.

Shrugging, Daryl undressed, doing his best to get the mud in only one area of the bathroom, before using the toilet and then climbing into the shower. Rick had started the water and moved the soap down to where he could reach it before leaving. He’d also pulled a clean towel and washcloth out of a cabinet and set them on the toilet seat

The water was the perfect temperature as he took his time cleaning the mud and dirt from the gashes on his back. They were probably already infected, but it wouldn’t hurt to clean them out to the best of his ability. The soap stung a bit as he rubbed it across his back, contorting his body to make sure he got all of it. He then moved onto the rest of his body, once again watching the mud and blood running through the water towards a drain. He kept on cleaning himself until the water ran clear and his skin was slightly red and raw from all the scrubbing.

At some point Rick had come back in and set down some clothes for him to wear and cleared away his dirty ones. Daryl doubted he’d be getting them back since blood tended to stain really well. The thought caused Daryl to freeze solid.

_If they attempt to clean my clothes they’ll notice the blood! What’s going to happen to him if they discover what his father does to him?_

He really didn’t want to go into the system. Getting thrown about from house to house like some useless piece of luggage made his sick to his stomach. But he finished drying off and got changed anyway. Rick had given him a pair of underwear with little race cars on them, a pair of black sweatpants with no holes, and a white t-shirt reading _“Hulk Smash!”_ with the image of some giant green monster below. He didn’t know who the Hulk was, but this guy’s son must like him.

The clothes actually fit him really well despite how small he was for his age. Only eating one or twice every other day didn’t help his grow any faster. He wondered absentmindedly how old they thought he was. He was twelve, but he knew his size make him look closer to ten or nine years of age. He cautiously stepped out of the bathroom, noticing the mess left behind by his clothes had been cleaned up already, and into the hallway.

“Any news?” he heard Michonne ask.

“Nope. There’s been no reports of a missing child matching his description ever,” Rick replied, “All that they told me was, based on our description, he’s probably Daryl Dixon, son of the town drunk.”

 _“No!”_ Daryl’s breath started increasing rapidly, _“they knew who he was now. Surely they’d throw him out now that they knew.”_

He could feel tears threatening to pour down his face once again as he continued to listen, wondering if he should climb out a window before they came after his and threw him out and save them the trouble of doing so.

* * *

“What are we going to do with him?” Rick asked his wife.

“I don’t know, but I do know we can’t just throw him back out into the storm.”

“Couldn’t we take him home?”

“No, he said his father threw him out of the house this morning,” Michonne sighed sadly, lifting her cup of coffee to her lips and taking a drink.

“Threw him out? In this weather? Why?” Rick looked incredulously at her.

“He didn’t say. He just said he couldn’t go back for a while. Rick, we both saw the blood mixed in with the mud. If his father’s the town drunk there’s a very real possibility that he’s abusing his son.”

A small sniffle from behind them caught their attention and Rick noticed he couldn’t hear the shower running anymore. They both turned and were met with the sight of a freshly cleaned Daryl who fit perfectly into some of Carl’s old clothes. The boy looked ready to bolt at the drop of a hat, absolutely terrified out of his mind.

The boy’s voice was small and soft  as he spoke, “I can leave if you want. I don’t want to be any trouble. Thank you for the shower and clean clothes.”

Daryl started heading for the door, obviously concluding that his presence was unwanted. Rick and Michonne immediately moved towards the child, his wife calmly assuring him that he was welcome to stay.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” the child insisted, ducking his head to hide behind his longish brown hair.

Michonne wanted to cry, this child very obviously didn’t know what it was like to be cared for and loved. She slowly reached out to touch him, heart breaking when he flinched away from her touch. He was subconsciously expecting her to hurt him despite him not even knowing her. She calmly reached out again, this time making contact with the boy’s arm. She immediately started moving her hand in comforting motions, trying to let him know that he was safe with her.

“Let us help you,” she whispered, “We’re not kicking you out and we certainly won’t hurt you.”

“What about him?” Daryl asked glancing at Rick, “Are you sure he won’t hurt me when you’re not here?”

Rick couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This child, who looked no more than ten years old at the most, was worried about behind hurt by him. Someone his age should be worried about learning math and playing with friends, not wondering if the adults he was around were going to hurt him.

Rick knelt down to his height to appear less intimidating, “I saw the blood on your clothes before I threw them out. They were absolutely massive on you anyway. Where did that blood come from?”

Daryl didn’t respond, instead his face paled and he looked ready to run all over again. Sensing the flight risk, Michonne tried drawing his attention back to her, “Are you hungry? I could make you something to eat if you’d like.”

It worked, Daryl’s attention immediately refocused on her. She could practically hear the boy’s stomach growl from hunger and she wondered when was the last time he ate.

“Follow me,” she said taking Daryl’s hand and leading him towards the kitchen.

She helped him up into one of the chairs at their kitchen island and opened the fridge. Rick made his way slowly over behind them.

“Let’s see,” she pondered their options as she peered inside the fridge, “we’ve got leftover beef stew, I could make you some Mac and Cheese, or maybe an omelette. What sounds good to you?”

* * *

Michonne glances back over her shoulder to look at him, her eyes questioning.

“The stew sounds great, ma’am,” he said picking the easiest option for her to prepare.

Truthfully, he wanted the Mac and Cheese since he hadn’t had any in a long time and remembered loving it, but he didn’t want to inconvenience them any more than he already had. He didn’t know what an omelet was, so he didn’t ask for that either. The stew smelled really good though, so he wasn’t afraid of having to eat something he didn’t like.

It wasn’t long before she was placing a bowl of warm stew and a glass of water in front of him. He thanked her and went to reach for the spoon before the water caught his eye. He stared at the water for a second, stunned by how clear it was. He’d never gotten such clear water from a tap at his house. He immediately grabbed and started drinking. It tasted so good, he just wanted more. He didn’t stop drinking until the cup was more than halfway empty.

Then, he started in on the stew. The broth was rich with flavors he’d never tasted before. The potatoes, carrots, celery and beef were all unbelievably delicious. He ate just like he did at home, slurping the broth and stuffing his mouth. He always ate this fast because he never knew when his father might turn up and take whatever he was eating away from him and eat it himself. He couldn’t recall how many times he’d caught some animal and made himself dinner only to have his father swoop in and steal it.

When he was finished with the stew, he chased it down with the rest of the water. He looked up to thank her again only to see her staring at him in shock. He wasn’t sure why though.

* * *

Michonne couldn’t believe her eyes as she watched the boy eat. He ate like a man possessed, as if he was worried at any moment she’d take it from him. He’d stared at the water like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing before downing more than half of it.

_Just how bad is this kid’s home life?_

She needed to talk to Rick, alone, but it would have to wait until the boy was out of hearing range. His earlier reaction to Rick’s question about the blood worried her. The kid might not want to give anything away because he’s scared of being thrown into the foster system. Her heart went out to him, memories of her time in the foster care system bubbling to the surface of her mind.

Her mother and father died in a car crash when she was only six years old and she’d spent the rest of her life in the foster care system bouncing around to a new house every few months.

She didn’t realize she was still staring at him until he finished his meal and looked up at her and immediately looked like he wanted to run. _He probably thinks I’m disgusted with his eating habits._

She immediately put on her kindest smile as she took the dishes from him.

“Thank you, ma’am, for the stew,” he offered, his voice was so soft and timid.

“You’re welcome,” Michonne answered as she placed the dirty dishes in the sink for later.

She glanced over at the clock on the wall reading 9 pm. She turned back around to the child only to see him yawning. A particularly loud boom of thunder caused him to jump in his chair.

He frowned, “Thanks for everything. I guess I’ll be going now.”

He hopped off the chair and headed for the door. She moved to go after him, but Rick was already there.

He knelt down by the child, “You don’t have to go anywhere. You’re welcome to stay here for the night.”

Daryl looked up at him hopefully, “You really mean that, sir?”

“Of course, I would never send a child out into a storm.”

Daryl smiled, really smiled for the first time ever since Michonne had met him, “Thank you!”

* * *

He wanted to give the man a hug, but didn’t know if it was allowed. The last time he tried to give his father a hug was when he was seven after his mother’s funeral. Instead of the kind embrace he was used to, he was met with a harsh slap to the face and a warning to never do it again. He hadn’t tried to hug someone else or been hugged since his mother died. The goodnight kisses and good morning hugs had died with her.

Instead, he made his way over to the couch and crawled up onto it and laid down. He nuzzled his head against one of the rough decorative pillows and yawned. He felt someone crouch down in front of him and he opened his eyes to see Michonne looking at him with sadness.

“Sweetheart, why are you laying here? Don’t you want to sleep in a bed?” she asked softly as she reached out to push some the hair that had fallen into his face back behind his ear.

He flinched lighter this time and allowed her to finish the movement having started to trust her kind touch a bit more, “I didn’t think you’d want me to sleep in a bed. My father said that strangers sleep on the couch or the floor and I’m a stranger in your house.”

Michonne smiled sadly, “That’s not true. Guests don’t sleep on the couch, at least, not in this house. Do you trust me?”

Daryl hesitated before nodding. He watched her carefully as she reached out and wrapped her arms around him. He was still, his breathing increasing rapidly. She gently lifted him off the couch and cradled him to her chest. On instinct, his arms went around her neck and he leaned his head onto her shoulder. The touch was nice, much nicer than any he could remember. Honestly, he didn’t want to let go.

She carried him into one of the bedrooms and used her elbow to turn on the light. The room was obviously for someone his age. The walls were decorated with race cars and roads. The bedspread had a shiny red car and the words _Lightning McQueen_ on it. Who or what that was he didn’t know.

_Was it the name of the car perhaps?_

The light green carpet was soft beneath his bare feet as Michonne set him down, much to his disappointment. In the corner he could see a red chest of sorts with various toys scattered around it next to a rather large closet. Michonne walked over to the bed and pulled the covers down, motioning for him to come over. He obeyed and crawled up onto the bed and laid down. The bed was soft against his aching back and the pillow reminiscent of a cloud under his head. He could feel his eyelids growing heavier by the second as she pulled the covers over his body.

She ran a hand through his damp hair and caressed his face, “Goodnight. We’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight,” he whispered back, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

Then, she left, turning off the light and closing the door quietly behind her. With a full stomach _and_ a clean body for the first time in over a week, it wasn’t long before he fell fast asleep.

* * *

“Michonne, what are we going to do with him?” Rick asked from the couch as soon Michonne came back into the room after putting Daryl to bed, “We can’t send him home.”

“I know. It appalling obvious that this child is abused at home. You saw how he reacted to my touch, to receiving food. He is so quick to assume that we want him gone,” she said sitting down next to her husband.

Rick wrapped his arm around her and pulled her body against his, “We could report it to the local police department.”

“We could, but if everyone knows his father is the town drunk and they haven’t done anything yet, I wouldn’t hold out too much hope that they’ll care.”

Rick wished this had happened back where they lived full time. There he could do something more than hope there were decent people at the police station. This was their vacation cabin. They knew it wasn’t in the best neighborhood, but it had been cheap and only an hour from home. Plus, they rarely went into town anyway. When they came up here they mostly stayed at the cabin and hiked through the woods. They were only going to be here for another few days before having to head back home.

“Rick,” Michonne spoke up, “I don’t want to leave him. He can’t live like this.”

“I know, but I don’t know how long it will take to get an investigation into this going since I’m involved. My involvement makes this a cross-department case and those are rare and full of red tape. Besides, we need more concrete proof than his jumpy personality.”

“What about the blood on his clothes?”

“The mud and water will have destroyed any DNA evidence. The defense could argue that it’s animal blood. Plenty of people hunt around here to make it plausible that he fell in some discarded animal guts or something.”

“Well, we know it’s his blood,” Michonne said, “so it had to come from somewhere. We just need proof of abuse on his body.”

Rick ran his fingers through his hair in thought, chewing on his bottoms lip, “I mean, yeah, physical signs of abuse usually always kick a child abuse case into high gear, but the question is: can we get him to show us?”

“I think with a little more trust building we could get him to talk. Maybe I need to bring up what happened to me as a child. A shared connection like that could bridge the gap between us.”

“Okay, but what happens after? You got those scars from the foster care system. It’ll scare him off from ever wanting to come forward. Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.”

Michonne was quiet for a while, one hand resting on top of Rick’s thigh and the other on her lower abdomen. She gently rubbed her stomach in thought, the lack of life painfully clear under her fingertips. The real reason they were on this two week long vacation was the she’d just suffered a miscarriage.

She’d been almost three months pregnant last week when she started feeling sharp pains in her lower abdomen. She’d been just about to call Rick to come get her from her job at the DA’s office when she felt blood run down her legs. She miscarried right there on the floor of her office, the pain too sharp to make it to the car. It happened so fast.

The memory of it brought tears to her eyes as she started to cry in Rick’s arms. Rick noticed and immediately pulled her into a tighter embrace.

“I know... I know he’s not the child we lost,” she started, “but he is a child and he’s in need of some serious help. I want to foster to adopt him, Rick. I want to save him because I could save... I couldn’t save our own.”

Holding his distraught wife in his arms, he wondered if that was the right move. To bring a child into their home with who knows how many issues right after suffering such a difficult loss. He could feel the power of her sobs against his shirt and beneath his fingers as she shook. Watching her weep for a child they’d just met made him shift his perspective.

“It’s not your fault, baby,” he whispered into her ear, “it’s not your fault. I’ll do what I can to bring him into our care. I promise.”

He kissed her head and helped her to their room where they got into bed. Michonne promptly fell asleep while Rick laid awake thinking about how he could get the kid to trust them to allow them to help him. Maybe helping this kid was the perfect remedy to not only the kid’s obvious abusive life but to the dark cloud hanging over him and his wife as well.

Reaching over to his bedside Rick set an alarm for 6 am. He was expecting to sleep in, but he wanted to be up before Daryl in order to prevent the possibility of him running away from them before they can help him. He’s worried as soon as he wakes up he’ll bolt because he’s deathly afraid of overstaying his welcome, he’d made that obvious with how many times he’d started for the door assuming he was going to be thrown out. It broke his heart that Daryl felt so unwanted that he was ready to bolt at any given second in order to not be thrown out. It’s almost as if he wants to beat people to it, leaving Rick wondering how many times the boy had been physically dragged out of places he wasn’t welcome.

Maybe a trip into town once the boy has come to trust them more would give him and Michonne a better insight into how this place treats Daryl Dixon.


	2. Baby Steps

As soon as his alarm went off, Rick silenced it not wanting to cause anyone else to wake up. He felt Michonne shift beside him in bed, but she just moaned and kept on sleeping. Rick sighed in relief and got out of bed, making his way into the main part of the house. He quickly went inside the bathroom to relieve himself before making his way out to the kitchen to make himself some coffee. The only exit in the entire house, including the windows, that wasn’t padlocked was the front door. It was meant to keep woodland creatures out, but now it would also help prevent Daryl from running away from the two people trying to help him.

Rick grabbed his cup of coffee and went to sit down on the couch and read a book. He wasn’t sure how long the kid would sleep, but in most abuse cases the kids were early risers since early morning was the safest time to walk around in their own home. This is because their parents are most often still passed out drunk or have massive hangovers and can’t be bothered to get out of bed. Sure enough, as soon as the sun started to peak up over the horizon, Daryl came walking out the bedroom still dressed in Carl’s clothing. The boy froze upon seeing Rick sitting on the couch reading a book.

“Good morning, Daryl. You’re up early,” Rick greeted the boy in a kind tone.

“Good morning, sir,” Daryl answered, still not moving from where his feet seemed to be planted into the ground.

_ “This kid is terrified of me,” _ he realizes in horror.

It must be Daryl’s father that was the perpetrator of most of the abuse that he’s had to endure. He’d shown less apprehension when Michonne was around which was a good sign. This could also indicate that the boy has no mother, whether she died or left he didn’t know, but because his mother isn’t inflicting any abuse on him, at least Michonne has a good chance at getting through to this kid.

* * *

Daryl woke up about the same time he always does, 7 am or with the sun when the window’s open. He was confused by his surroundings at first. The windowblinds were closed, his room didn’t have window blinds. His bed was comfortable and his head was resting on an actual pillow instead of a couple bawled up sweatshirts. There was also a working clock sitting on what he guessed was a nightstand, his clock had stopped working years ago. Only the clock in the kitchen worked. That’s when it hit him, none of this stuff was familiar because none of it was his. He’d spent the night at some kind strangers’ house.

Realizing this, Daryl jumped out of bed and started frantically looking around the room for a way out. Surely by now he’s overstayed his welcome and they’d come throw him out as soon as they woke up. Wanting to keep the positive memories of them intact, he was going to leave before they could do that to him. The last thing he wanted to encounter was knowledge that, at the end of the day, these kind people were just like everyone else. He walked over to one of the windows and quietly lifted the blinds. He immediately noticed that it was still pouring outside, but he also noticed the locks on the windows. He tired to open one to no avail, they were shut tight and he definitely didn’t want to break anything.

Upon discovering he couldn’t get out through the window, he turned around to go out the front, but stopped when he noticed he hadn’t made his bed up. He ran over to it and pulled the sheets and comforter up, smoothing each layer out as he went--just like how his mother taught him to when he was little. He also noticed that he wasn’t wearing any socks or shoes, two things he normally sleeps in so that he’s ready to run should his father decide that 2 am was a great time for a impromptu beating. He looked around the room for his shoes, but they were nowhere in sight. Then again, they had been pretty muddy and gross, so they were probably still out in the main room.

Looking around the room and not seeing anything else out of place, he opened his door and stepped out into the main hallway. He really needed to use the bathroom, but wasn’t sure if he was allowed to or not. They’d let him shower here last night but still, it wasn’t his home and his father hated the sound of the toilet flushing in the morning. So, usually he went out into the woods to relieve himself in the morning. He quietly closed the door behind him and stepped into the living room only to come face to face with Rick. Daryl stopped in his tracks upon seeing the man. While Rick greeted him kindly, he was still apprehensive about being alone with the man and longed for Michonne to show up.

“Would you like some breakfast? I make really good omelets,” Rick offered.

_ Again with the omelet thing. What are they that both of them keep offering him one? But who was he to turn down hospitality from this man? _

The last thing he wanted to do was offend Rick and make him angry, “I’d love some. Thank you, sir.”

He watch Rick get up and make his way towards the kitchen. He waited for the man to laugh at him and slap his face, but it never came. The man hadn’t been lying to him to make him seem like some greedy child, he had really been offering to get him something to eat. He watched, still in the same place as before, as Rick opened up the fridge and grabbed a carton of eggs, a bag of cheese, and some butter. Curious, Daryl started to inch his way over to the kitchen and climbed up into the same chair he’d sat in yesterday.

Rick continued to bustle around the kitchen and sent a quick text to Michonne that Daryl was awake before placing a skillet onto the stove. “Want anything else besides cheese in your omelet?” Rick asked as he began whisking the eggs in a bowl.

“No thanks, just cheese is good,” Daryl answered him with a small voice.

* * *

Rick could tell the child hadn’t really thought about his offer, happy to accept whatever Rick wanted to give him and afraid to ask for me. Rick worried, however, that if he tried to push the kid to tell him if he wanted any ham or vegetables in his omelet that the kid would become scared that he wasn’t being grateful enough. So, Rick decided to just stick with the addition of cheese for now. Right now they were just trying to get him to trust them, helping him learn new habits would have to come much later.

Daryl watched in fascination as Rick poured some eggs into a pan and then began sprinkling them with cheese. He kept waiting for Rick to stir the eggs, but he never did. At some point he just used a spatula to fold one side of the eggs over the other into a semi-circle shape. He then flipped it over before moving it onto a clean plate. When Rick turned around and saw the curiosity etched onto the boy’s face he was confused.

_ Has this kid really never seen an omelet be made? _

“Here you go. One cheesy omelet, enjoy,” Rick smiled at him as he set the plate down in front of him.

“Thank you, sir,” he said as he picked up his fork to dig in.

“Milk or orange juice?” Rick asked.

Daryl froze and looked up at him his eyes conveying confusion.

Rick paused on his way to the fridge, “Would you prefer to drink milk or orange juice with your breakfast?”

“Um... I’m fine with either one,” he answer nervously.

Obviously, being presented with a choice was difficult for him and Rick really didn’t know how to handle it. He didn’t want to force the kid to drink something he didn’t like, but he didn’t want to push the kid quite yet either. Luckily, he was saved by the bell also known as, Michonne.

“I personally find that milk goes best with an omelet,” she inserted smoothly.

Daryl jumped at her sudden appearance behind him, but settled quickly enough once he realized who it was.

“But juice is good, too. Which one would you prefer? Both are fine,” she continued taking a seat next to Daryl at the island.

Daryl stared at her for a moment before quietly answering her, “I’d prefer milk, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing. One glass of milk coming up,” she smiled sweetly at him while Rick poured the boy some milk.

Once again, the child ate like someone was going to steal his food right out of his hands. It was so sad to see a child so scared of the adults around him that he felt the need to walk on eggshells around every corner. Daryl was finished with his food before Rick had even finished making Michonne’s. After he was done, he got down off the stool and while Michonne thought he was going to head for the door, he grabbed his empty plate and cup, took it over the the sink and began to wash them. He then dried it and placed it on the counter next to some of the other clean dishes. Both of them watched him in shock because what other kid his age washed his own dishes right after finishing eating without being asked?

Michonne looked at Rick in shock, this child wasn’t a child. He was an adult in the body of a child. The signs of maturity way beyond his age limit were obvious and Michonne had the sudden urge to check his bedroom to see if he made his bed, too. This child has been forced to grow up way too fast for his age. He should be playing with toys, asking a million questions, and begging to go outside and play in the rain. Instead, he was quiet, barely making a sound as he got back into his chair, and refused to look either of them in the eye. His entire posture screamed “beaten into submission” and her heart broke even more for him.

“So, Daryl, what are your hobbies?” Michonne asked nonchalantly while eating her ham, cheese, and red pepper omelet.

Daryl looked up at her in confusion, “hobbies?”

She swallowed hard, “Yeah, hobbies. What do you like to do in your free time?”

“Uh... I like to hunt in the woods behind my house, swim in the creek, and I used to like helping my brother work on his motorcycle.”

“Used to?” Rick asked, placing his fresh omelet down on the island across from them.

“Yeah, my brother’s not around anymore.”

“Where’d he go?” Rick pushed slightly.

He wanted some more information on the kind of family this kid was living with besides “the town drunk.”

The boy swallowed hard obviously torn between answering the question to appease him and not answering to protect his reputation with them.

“He’s in jail, sir.”

Rick blinked a few times at the news. He hadn’t expected much, but he figured the older brother had just left when he could and not taken his brother with him. He hadn’t expected to find out his brother was in jail. Rick glanced at Michonne and she had a look on her face that was telling him to stop asking so many questions.

“Daryl,” Michonne said turning his attention away from Rick and his awkward questions, “would you like to play a game with us?”

Daryl just stared at her as he asked in a timid voice, as if he was afraid she was going to hit him for speaking, “You want me to stay longer?”

Michonne smiled at him, “Of course. It’s still pouring outside and since you have nowhere else to go, we’ve got no problem with you staying here as long as you need to.”

Daryl was at a loss for words. He was so used to people demanding that he leave immediately that the idea these people wanted him to stay was mind blowing.   
“You really don’t mind if I stay?” he asked, just need the confirmation that they weren’t going to kick him out at the drop of a hat.

“We really would like you to stay,” Michonne reiterated as Rick nodded his head.

Daryl’s face broke out into a smile and without thinking, he launched himself into Michonne’s arms, wrapping his own arms around her shoulders. Completely caught off guard by Daryl’s sudden movement, she struggled to get a good grip on him. The boy was so light, however, that it was easy for her to lift him up a bit so that he could sit comfortably on her lap as he hugged her. As soon as he was situated, she hugged him back, promising herself to not let go until Daryl did. Who knows when the last time this kid got a hug was.

She cradled him against herself as he nuzzled his face against her shoulder, burying his face in her dreadlocks. She started running her hands up and down his back as she held him as a soothing guestrue only to feel ridges of flesh under her fingertips. She could feel what were quite possibly scars given to him by his abusive parents and it made her want to break down in tears right there, but she couldn’t give Daryl the impression that she knew they were there. She wanted him to reveal them on his own when he trusted them enough to tell them about his homelife.

She slowly got up and carried him over to the couch and sat down again, still not letting go. Rick walked over to one of the closets and pulled out one of their simpler games,  _ Trouble.  _ It was an older game that they’d bought for Carl a long time ago. The game board and pieces themselves have seen better days, but overall the game was really fun.

“Daryl look, let’s play a game,” Rick said as he looked upon the child as he clung to his wife like she was his only lifeline.

The boy turned and looked at the game in his hands, “How do you play?”

Rick sat down on the floor so that he was looking up at his wife and Daryl, “I’ll show you if you come down here with me.”

He looked apprehensive about joining him on the floor and leaving the safety of Michonne’s arms. This, however, was an important step in building trust between them. Right now, the only adult man really in his life was abusing him. If he could get Daryl to trust him enough to come down onto the floor and want to play a game, it would give him some hope that his fear of adult men could be untaught.

Rick placed the game down in front of him and started setting it up. He placed the different colored pawns in their start positions before looking back up at the two above him. Daryl had moved out of Michonne grasp slightly as he watched him set up the game. His curiosity was very obvious to both him and Michonne. Rick honestly wondered when the last time Daryl had been invited to play a game with someone was. Slowly, still hesitant to trust Rick, Daryl climbed out of Michonne’s lap and sat down across from Rick on the floor.

“Which color would you like to play as?” Rick asked.

* * *

Daryl looked at the colors in front of him. There was red, blue, green, and yellow pawns to choose from. He silently pointed at the green ones and watched as Rick turned the board so that they were sitting in front of him. Michonne chose the red pawns and Rick chose the blue ones. Very calmly, Rick began to explain how to play the game. Daryl quickly caught on: hit the plastic dome in the middle to roll the die. If he rolls a six, one of his four pawns moves out of the starting gate and he gets to roll again. He can move any pawn outside the starting gate when he rolls. If he lands directly on another person’s pawn at the end of his turn, that person’s pawn gets sent back to the start. And the whole point of the game was to get every single one of his pawns from their  _ start _ into their  _ home.  _

“Youngest goes first,” Rick told him and motioned for him to hit the plastic dome in the middle of the game board.

Daryl hit his hand against the plastic dome and it let out a huge popping sound and flung the die up into the air. It landed on a six and he smiled with joy as he moved his pawn out of the starting gate and hit the dome again. As they played, he could feel himself becoming more comfortable with laughing and asking questions of the two adults. He just hoped his newfound trust wasn’t misplaced, especially in Rick. He forgot the stinging of the fresh welts and cuts on his back when he and Michonne laughed at Rick’s misfortune. She’d just knocked one of his pawns back to their starting position and he’d stuck his tongue out at her. They played games for a long time. They played  _ Sorry, Chinese Checkers, Chutes and Ladders, _ and now they were halfway through a rather intense game of  _ Monopoly. _

“Yes!” Daryl yelled as he landed on  _ Park Place _ having already purchased  _ Boardwalk _ a few rounds ago.

“Darn you,” Rick groaned, “That entire side of the board is going to have me screwed from now on. You own half of it and Michonne owns the other half.”

Daryl laughed as he collected his prize and proceeded to build two houses on each one.

“No! If I land on either one of those I’m done for,” Rick whined playfully.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re going to be in jail for your next couple of turns then, isn’t it,” Daryl teased as he followed Rick’s own example and stuck his tongue out at him.

Rick let out a dramatic gasp and held a hand against his chest in mock offense.

* * *

Michonne laughed at her husband along with Daryl. She was so happy to see him smiling and teasing Rick. It proved to her that Daryl was resilient, that he hasn’t been destroyed by the abuse he’s suffered at home. It just takes some work to get the child in him to come out and relax in a safe environment for once in his life. It proves to her, and to Rick, that  with the right amount of caution, patience, and love this child  _ can _ be saved.

 


	3. Night Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Michonne convince Daryl to join them for dinner at an upscale restaurant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the food items mentioned in this chapter are from “Gordon Ramsay Steak” in Las Vegas.

Before they all knew it, their stomachs were growling and they were ready for some dinner having eaten some sandwiches for lunch while they continued to play games. Rick looked outside and noticed that the rain had stopped which only increased the chances of Daryl deciding it was time to leave. He turned to look at his wife who was watching some TV with him while Rick came up with a game plan for encouraging Daryl to go to dinner with them. They’d made reservations at a nice restaurant just outside of town, _The Riverside Steakhouse_. It was a nicer place so they’d have to get him into some of Carl’s nicer clothes and convince him that the restaurant wasn’t going to throw him out upon seeing him.

Over the course of the day, Daryl has started to open up to them. To be honest though, it’s mainly been to Michonne. He answers almost any question she asked him now with little to no hesitation. Daryl was still apprehensive towards him, but again, that was to be expected.

He wondered if Daryl has ever been to a nice restaurant where chefs cooked with fresh ingredients and not frozen burgers like they do in town. Actually, based on how Daryl talks about his reception in the town, he doubted the boy had ever even eaten at a proper restaurant. He talked a lot about cooking his own meat the he hunts in the woods behind his house. When Michonne asked him how long he’s been hunting, his answer appalled both of them. He said he’s been shooting a crossbow since he could pick one up at the age of six.

“It’s where most of my meals come from,” Daryl said as he flicked the spinner during their second round of _Chutes and Ladders._

He still, however, has not revealed any information into any of the physical abuse they were sure he was suffering at home. There was some obvious neglect, but in Georgia most people got off on warnings for neglect. It was wrong, but the horrible truth of it is that if they removed every child from a home where they aren’t suffering actual physical abuse, the system wouldn’t be able to handle the number of kids coming into it. Hell, the system can barely handle the number of kids in it now.

Rick walked back over to them, “Hey Daryl, how would you like to go out and get something to eat with me and Michonne?”

The kid froze, the smile dying on his lips, “You mean, go into town?”

“No, the place we’re going is much better than any of the local restaurants. It’s about 20 minutes outside town.”

“Everytime I try to walk into a restaurant, they immediately throw me out,” he hung his head, his joyful mood gone.

“What do you mean they throw you out?” Michonne asked him.

“I’m not welcome in places I can’t pay to eat in. Sometimes even if I have money they make me leave or sit outside to eat where the other customers can’t see me. They say I’ll scare their other customers off. They called me dirty, unclean and look at me like I’m trash. It’s not my fault my house doesn’t have running water half the time.”

Michonne pulled Daryl close to her on the couch, “I promise I’m not going to let anyone treat you that way tonight.”

“But I still don’t have any money to buy dinner with, especially if it’s a nice place,” the boy looked utterly dejected, “I think it’s time I go home.”

Daryl jumped off the couch, but Rick stopped him from going any further.

“What gave you the impression that we weren’t going to pay for your meal?” Rick asked him placing a hand carefully on his shoulder.

He felt the boy flinch at the touch, but he didn’t pull away which was an improvement. Daryl looked up at him in total confusion, “You’d pay for me to eat?”

“Of course. We’re friends and friends help each other.”

Daryl still looked unsure about the whole thing, “But I don’t have anything to wear and I don’t think they’d like me showing up in your son’s pajamas.”

“Well, yes. You’ll need to change, but I’m sure we can find something in Carl’s closet that’ll fit you perfectly.”

“I don’t want to be an inconvenience...”

“It’s our pleasure,” Michonne cut in, a beautiful smile on her lips “trust me. We’ve really enjoyed your company and we’d like to take you out to dinner.”

Daryl stared at Michonne for a minute before nodding, “As long as you’re sure I’m not intruding, I’d love to stay longer with you guys.”

“Come with me then,” she said and stood up from the couch to lead him back into Carl’s room.

She opened the door and sure enough, Carl’s bed was made up just like she’d assumed from the dish washing. Daryl was obsessed with keeping a tidy space. Extreme cleanliness around the house must be something his father had beaten into him. She made her way over to the closet and started picking out things that looked like they’d fit Daryl. She turned around to find Daryl patiently waiting by the door.

“Come here,” she said motioning him closer with her hand.

Reassured by her sweet tone, Daryl made his way over to her and looked up at the clothes in her hands. She kept shifting items of clothing around in her hands before settling on a nice forest green collared t-shirt and some black slacks. She knelt down in front of him, she wanted to try something.

“You mind removing your shirt so that you can try this one on?” she asked holding the new shirt out towards him.

* * *

Daryl froze, staring in fear at the shirt. Michonne has now asked him to remove his shirt within sight of her. The fresh wounds on his back stinging in warning. If she saw what he was hiding under this shirt he’d be thrown into the foster care system for sure. He wanted to run, but he didn’t want to disappoint her either. She and Rick have been so kind to him all day today and yesterday. It would be extremely rude for him to just bolt right now after accepting their offer of dinner.

He looked into Michonne’s eyes seeing only kindness. He wanted to trust her so badly, but he still didn’t feel safe revealing just how awful his home life is.

He shook his head, “Can I please try it on it the bathroom? Alone.”

He caught a flicker of what he thought was disappointment in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced again by kindness.

“Sure,” she said handing him the clothes, “Go change and come back.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Daryl quickly exited the room before she changed her mind and made his way to the bathroom. After using the toilet and washing his hands, he started to undress. He turned around so that he could see his back in the floor length mirror hung on the door. Angry welts in the shape of thick lashes from his father’s leather belt criss crossing his back from the base of his neck to his waist. He touched one and flinched, they hurt so bad. He wanted desperately to tell his new friends, but his fear of the foster system kept him quiet.

He changed quickly. Everything she’d picked out for him fit perfectly. It was amazing how similar in size he and Rick’s son were despite him being small for his age. When he looked at himself in the mirror again, he barely recognized himself. He was clean and wearing nicer clothes than he’d ever owned before in his life. The shirt wasn’t hanging off his body like a towel, but it also wasn’t so tight that it pressed uncomfortably against the lashes on his back and the pants hugged his legs perfectly.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he brought the other clothes, which he’d folded, to Michonne who was waiting for him in Carl’s bedroom. She took the old clothes from him and placed them in a basket to her left.

“You look so good in those!” she gushed, “Here, try these shoes and socks on.”

Daryl accepted the dark green socks and black dress shoes from her. He lowered himself onto the floor to pull the socks and shoes on. They felt so good on his feet. He didn’t own any socks without holes and he’s been wearing the same ratty pair of tennis shoes for the last two years. They hurt his feet since he’d long grown out of them, but they were his only pair and he couldn’t afford new ones.

“They fit perfectly,” he cheered, smiling up at Michonne who was positively beaming at him.

She stood up and held out her hand to help him up. She reached into the closet and grabbed a jacket before ushering him out of the room.

“Take this and go wait for me on the couch with Rick. It’s my turn to get dressed now,” she said before disappearing inside her bedroom.

Daryl cautiously made his way over to the couch and sat down. Rick was sitting in the armchair at the opposite end of the couch. Daryl intentionally positioned himself far enough away from Rick that he’d be able to escape should Rick decide to come after him.

The man just looked at him with sadness in his eyes. He clearly wished he would trust him, but he just couldn’t allow himself to do that yet. They sat in relative silence for a good 10-15 minutes while they waited for Michonne. He noticed that Rick was now wearing a nice set of black dress pants and a light blue button up shirt and a black tie.

Daryl wasn’t entirely sure what was playing on the TV, but he was enjoying it anyways. He watched as the people on the screen ran around what looked to be a really fancy kitchen with a timer ticking away above their heads. When the timer went off, the three people cooking presented their dishes to three judges and they decided who would continue onto the next round.

He’d never seen anything like it. He didn’t even know kitchens that big existed. He could feel himself growing hungry as he watched the people prepare dish after dish. He was absolutely fascinated by it.

“Ready to go boys?” he heard Michonne call from his right breaking his concentration on the TV.

She looked absolutely stunning in a nice dark blue dress that fell down to her knees with only one strap across her right shoulder to hold it up. Her dress complemented beautifully by her light blue lipstick and white heels. Daryl had never seen someone so beautiful before in his life.

“Wow,” Daryl breathed, staring up at her, “You’re gorgeous.”

Michonne smiled brightly at him, “Thank you.”

“Yes, we’re ready to go. And you do look lovely, babe,” Rick said standing up and walking over to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

Daryl could see the love they have for each other, something he’d never seen between his parents back when his mother had been alive. Whenever his parents weren’t fighting they were either drunk or simply not around.

Daryl got up and slipped on Carl’s coat and made his way over to the door. Rick and Michonne followed closely behind him. Outside, the recent storm had left small branches covering the driveway. The leaves that had been knocked down were still very wet and slippery. Daryl breathed in the scent of the outdoors, letting it comfort him just like it always did.

He watched from the porch as Rick helped Michonne into their car. He motioned for him to come over and Daryl quickly obeyed. Rick opened one of the back doors for him and shut it behind him. He sat down on the seat and waited for Rick to get in so that they could be on their way.

Rick climbed in only a few seconds later. Daryl watched Rick buckle his seatbelt, an action he’d never seen his father do once.

_Should he buckle up too?_

“Daryl, would you mind buckling your seatbelt please? It’s safer if you do,” Rick asked looking at him in the rear view mirror.

Daryl rushed to grab the seat belt and fiddled with it until he finally figured out how the thing was supposed to work. With a satisfying click, Daryl sat back in his seat as Rick finally put the car in drive and pulled out of the their driveway. Daryl listened to the two of the chat on the ride to this restaurant. He keep staring down at his clothes, too. It was so weird for him to look so clean.

It only took about 20 minutes for them to arrive at the restaurant. They pulled into a parking space close to the door and got out. Daryl took Michonne’s hand as they walked up to the door. Just as they were about to walk inside, Daryl felt like he couldn’t breathe and froze.

_What if they knew who he was here and threw him out? Would Michonne and Rick shrug it off and leave him in the car while they ate?_

He could feel himself starting to hyperventilate, but he didn’t know how to stop it. He just kept reliving being thrown out of place after place over and over in his mind.

* * *

Michonne felt Daryl’s hand slip out of hers and she turned around. She immediately noticed how short and quick his breaths were coming, he was terrified of entering the restaurant. She remembered him mentioning that people threw him out of restaurants on a regular basis because he couldn’t afford the food or he was too dirty. She bent down so that she could look Daryl in the eyes.

“Look at me,” she coaxed him to look up her, “No one is going to throw you out. I promise.”

He still looked unsure.

“Do you trust me?” she asked him, extending her hand out to him.

Daryl nodded and took her hand and let her lead him inside the restaurant.

* * *

Once inside the doors of the restaurant, Daryl’s jaw dropped at how fancy the place was. The walls were covered in nice, light wood paneling and the floor was covered in dark brown wooden floorboards. There were windows everywhere showing off the beautiful forest outside. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and each table was decorated with a stunning bouquet of flowers. Various paintings were hung on the walls and there were a few statues placed here and there around the dining room.

Rick approached the desk and gave him their name. Daryl also heard him ask for a third chair to be added explaining they hadn’t known his “son” was going to be with them tonight. The man looked over at him and he fought the urge to hide behind Michonne’s legs. He shook slightly as he waited for the yelling to begin and for him to be tossed out the doors and onto the unforgiving cement walkway.

Instead, however, the man just nodded, accepting Rick’s false explanation as to the sudden addition to their reservation.

“Follow me please,” the man said before turning and walking off.

Still holding Michonne’s hand, he followed them to the table obediently and sat down. The man who’d led them here handed him a menu before leaving them at the table. The menu was a single-sides piece menu with options like steak, burgers, and salads. He was overwhelmed by the options, but another thing that caught his attention were the prices. Each dish ranged in price from 20 to more than 50 dollars.

“Michonne?” he called.

“Yes? Find something you’d like?” she asked.

“Um... I was actually wondering what I’m allowed to have. Everything here is so expensive...” he trailed off.

“You can have anything you want. Pick one entree and one dessert. Anything you don’t finish we’ll take it to go. Okay? Don’t you worry about the price.”

Daryl swallowed nervously, but nodded in understanding anyway. He understood he could have whatever he wanted, but he also didn’t want to seem greedy. He looked over the menu reading each item’s ingredients and prices carefully. Daryl eventually settled on the _American Wagyu Beef Burger_ which was only $21. For dessert, since Michonne told him to pick one, he decided to go for the _Vanilla Mascarpone Cheesecake_ which was $13.

He’d had cheesecake only once before when Anne at the supermarket had given him one of the leftovers she could no longer legally sell. It had strawberry topping and was absolutely delicious. He’d never asked for another one, however, afraid he’d seem ungrateful for what she did give him and stop feeding him altogether. This cheesecake, however, was covered in blueberries or, more specifically, a blueberry compote—whatever the hell that was. But he liked blueberries so he figured he’d like whatever this blueberry compote thing was anyway.

A woman wearing a nice waitress uniform approached their table not long after and asked them if they were ready to order. Rick ordered the _Roasted Beef Wellington_ and the _Citrus Pavlova_ for dessert. Michonne ordered the _Pacific Salmon_ as her main course and something called _Chocolate Pot de Créme_ for dessert.

“And what would you like dear?” The waitress asked him kindly.

“Um...” Daryl swallowed hard, “I’ll have the _American Wagyu Beef Burger_ for dinner and the _Vanilla Mascarpone Cheesecake_ for dessert.”

“Sure thing,” the waitress said, “I’ll go get this order in right away.”

Daryl breathed a sigh of relief. He was absolutely shocked he’d been able to make it through that entire sentence without stumbling over his words and looking like a complete idiot. He just hoped he’d pronounced “wagyu” right—again, whatever the hell that is. All of this food was so fancy that he hadn’t known what more than half of it was.

_The hell’s gnocchi? Or risotto? Or even wagyu? The very thing he’d ordered._

“This place is so nice, Rick,” Michonne gushed looking around more now that she wasn’t focused on the menu, “Thanks for bringing me... us here.”

She looked straight at him when she said us and his heart swelled. He wanted so badly for it to be true, but the more realistic side of his brain reminded him that this was temporary and he’d be back at the mercy of his father’s belt soon enough. He really didn’t want to go back. He wanted Rick and Michonne to take him with them wherever they went. Maybe they were only being nice to him now because they didn’t really know him super well, but even if the kindness is temporary and they turned out to be just like him, he’d take the temporary kindness anyway. It’s way better than the eternal hatred he lives with at home.

Conversation flowed smoothly between them as they waited for their food. It only took about 20 minutes for their food to arrive. The burger was huge to him. He was used to tiny, flat burgers on the extremely rare occasion that his brother took him out for food. It was served with garlic mashed potatoes insides of french fries, but the fresh potatoes tasted way better than french fries served at the local restaurants.

Daryl watched as Michonne and Rick ate their food slowly, savoring every bite. Daryl did his best to mimic them so that he didn’t look like the filthy redneck he is. He picked his humongous burger up and carefully took a bite. It was, by far, the best burger he’d ever eaten.

“Fuck, this is awesome!” he announced to Rick and Michonne, taking another bite.

“Well, I’m glad you like it. My food’s really good, too. Rick?” Michonne prompted.

Rick was looking at him with mild disapproval, but Daryl didn’t know why. Instead, he immediately put down the burger and sunk down in his chair.

_What did he do wrong?_

* * *

Michonne noticed the change in Daryl as soon as it happened. Daryl had looked at Rick and just deflated. She looked at Rick and caught the disapproving glint in his eye. It must’ve been the curse word that threw him. She hadn’t been expecting it either, but with an abusive, alcoholic father she wasn’t surprised by his language at all. She’d need to talk to him about it later, but right now she had to pull Daryl back from the edge.

“Rick,” she repeated, “how’s your food? Mine’s _damn_ good, too.”

She raised her eyebrows at him praying that he understood what she was trying to say. Rick stared blankly at her for a second before his eyes widened almost comically wide.

“Yes, mine’s amazing. Come on Daryl, eat up. Dessert will be coming in soon,” Rick spoke giving Daryl his brightest smile.

He’d feel awful if he’d just destroyed some of the progress they’d been making all because he was caught off guard by a swear word. Daryl cautiously picked up his burger and took a bite, his eyes never leaving Rick’s. Once Daryl realized Rick wasn’t upset with him, he broke eye contact to focus on enjoying his meal.

Michonne breathed a silent sigh of relief, _disaster averted._

The rest of dinner past without incident and now they were just waiting on their desserts. Michonne figured Daryl’s shift in language was a direct result of him becoming more comfortable around them. He wasn’t as afraid of being hurt by them because of something he does. While his growing level of trust was encouraging, it was hard to keep him distracted from the looks of disapproval being thrown at him from some of the other customers who weren’t used to hearing swearing in the middle of a fine dining restaurant.

Daryl was laughing and smiling and telling them stories about some of the happier times in his life. He talked about how his brother, Merle, taught him to hunt, to swim, and how to cook. Daryl shifted in his seat uncomfortably when he mentioned that Merle didn’t approve of gay people. He couldn’t even look Michonne in the eyes when he told her how Merle talks about African Americans. His fear that she would hold his brother’s opinions against him was evident from how his voice shook as he spoke.

* * *

“Well, you don’t agree with him, right?” she asked.

“No ma’am. I don’t understand what difference Merle sees between us besides the color of our skin. There used to be this kid, TJ, in my classes at school and he was black, but we both loved the outdoors and riding bikes. He always made me laugh after a rough day at home. Merle got mad at me for hanging out with him and threatened to hurt him if I ever hung out with him again. I could never understand why.”

Michonne smiled sadly at him, taking hold of his hand on the table and rubbing her thumb over it comfortingly, “Some people are just bitter and hateful for some unknown reason. I’m really glad you didn’t adopt his opinions or his habits.”

Daryl finally met her gaze and relaxed when he saw nothing but kindness in her eyes.

The waitress brought their desserts out and, once again, Daryl expressed his love of the food using some more colorful language. This time, however, out of the corner of his eye he saw an older woman curl her lips in disgust at him. He immediately stopped eating, laying his fork down on the plate. It was so good, but he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. The way the woman was looking at him reminded him of how his father’s face would scrunch up just before laying into him with his belt.

Michonne and Rick both noticed and stopped eating as well. Daryl threw a quick glance across the room at the woman before quickly averting his eyes back to the table. Michonne looked over to where he had and noticed the woman. Michonne cleared her throat, “Ignore her, Daryl. If that woman wants to act like a stuck up bitch it’s her right. She means nothing. Just pretend she isn’t there.”

Daryl still looked uncertain, but then he looked over and Rick and he was giving the woman one of the scariest staredowns he’d ever seen. The woman immediately averted her eyes away from their table. Daryl stared at Rick in shock.

“Come Daryl, eat up. That cheesecake looks absolutely amazing,” Rick encouraged turning his attention back to their table.

Feeling protected by both Rick and Michonne, Daryl picked his fork back up and began to eat again. Soon enough, they were finished with their meal and left the restaurant. Daryl climbed back into the car and buckled up. He was full and clean for the second day in a row. Daryl yawned and stretched in his seat, shifting around to make himself more comfortable.

Before he knew it, he was fast asleep dreaming about living in a nice house with a couple that looked suspiciously like Michonne and Rick. There was laughter ringing in his ears and the two adults were smiling at his as they played a game on the floor in front of a roaring fireplace. The woman leaned forward and kissed his head and the man pulled him to a soft hug and he smiled.

* * *

They were about halfway home when Rick told Michonne to look up into the rear view mirror at Daryl. She saw him fast asleep with a light smile on his lips. She grinned at how relaxed he was and prayed that they’d be able to get him away from his father so that he could always be like this. This is how a child should be treated.


	4. Game Plan

Rick carefully lifted Daryl out of the car and carried him inside. The boy only yawned in response to being moved, opening his eyes briefly before snuggling closer to Rick’s chest. Rick was struck by how light he was for his age. He figured he weighed only 60-65 pounds when normally a 10 year old boy—at least that’s what he thought Daryl’s age was—should weight closer to 70-75 pounds on average.

He woke up just long enough to use the bathroom, brush his teeth—a task Michonne had to explain to him—before changing into some pajamas. Once again, Michonne tried to get him to change at least his shirt in front of her, but he refused and changed in the bathroom. He allowed Michonne to pick him up and carry him to bed. She kissed him on the forehead after tucking him in and the boy practically purred reaching out towards Michonne with one him. She allowed him to pull her back down and she gave him another kiss, this time on the cheek.

Daryl smiled, “Goodnight,” he yawned.

“Goodnight, Daryl,” she whispered and then left the room.

* * *

Daryl woke up to excruciating pain in his back. He immediately rolled onto his side in an attempt to ease the pain a bit, but it only helped a little. Daryl whimpered, his wounds were infected. Having been out in the rain so long and covered in mud infection had been given a chance to fester. Him cleaning out the wounds in the shower had been too little, too late. He’d even treated them again last night in the sink, but hadn’t helped.

He was still at Rick and Michonne’s house which only increased his worry. There was no way he was going to be able to hide this from them. He didn’t want to leave them, but he also didn’t want to end up in the system. He tried to sit up, but the stretch on his back caused him to cry out in pain. He could only hope they hadn’t heard him.

* * *

In the other room, Michonne and Rick were enjoying some coffee having both woken up earlier than normal.

“We need to get him to show us his back today,” Michonne said to her husband, “We’re running out of time.”

“I know, but I’m afraid of pushing him before he’s ready.”

“Rick, that blood could have very well been fresh blood on his clothes. That was two days ago. If he’s got fresh wounds on his back, he’s running a serious risk of infection with the amount of mud that he was covered in.”

Rick nodded in understanding, he too had begun to worry about the chance of infection. Last night when they put him to bed, Daryl would shift uncomfortably whenever they tried touching his back. They’d assumed at the time he didn’t want them to feel the scars, but now he was wondering if the boy had actually been in pain.

A soft cry of pain caught their attention. It had come from Carl’s room which meant Daryl was in trouble. They both looked at each other before Rick motioned for Michonne to go check on him. Daryl trusted her more and so maybe she’d have a better chance at getting him to reveal why he made that cry of pain.

Michonne slowly opened the door of Carl’s room letting the light from the main part of the cabin spill in onto the bed. Daryl was still in bed, but he wasn’t sleeping. He was trying to get up, but kept allowing his arms to collapse back down onto the bed. Tears were leaking from his closed eyes as he bit his lip to keep from crying out again. His eyes snapped open as soon as the light hit him and he attempted to shrink in on himself. The action forced a whimper from his lips and a muffled sob escaped right after.

Michonne quickly made her way over to his bed and knelt down to be at eye level with him, “Daryl, what is it?”

“N-nothing,” he lied trying to wipe his tears away with his pajama shirt.

“Daryl, I know it’s not nothing. Please let me help you,” she whispered soothingly smoothing his hair back behind his ears.

He looked up at her with bloodshot eyes, “Promise you won’t abandon me?”

“I promise,” she placed her hand over her heart as he watched her.

“My back...” he whispered, his voice strained from the pain, “I think it’s infected.”

Her eyes widened in horror. She reached out and placed one of her hands on his forehead, he was too warm. One sign of infection was a fever and he definitely had one.

“May I see your back, please?” she asked.

Daryl didn’t respond.

He looked uncertain, but eventually relented, “You’ll have to take the shirt off, but I can’t sit up.”

Michonne called for Rick over he shoulder before reaching under Daryl’s body, carefully avoiding his back, and sat him up. Rick came into the room and saw Daryl’s condition.

“Help me with his shirt,” his wife asked.

Rick walked over and sat down on the bed next to Daryl, his own hands replacing his wife’s to keep him prompt up. Very slowly she lifted one of Daryl’s arms above his head so that she could take one half of the shirt off. Daryl whimpered in pain, but he didn’t protest or pull away.

Rick’s eye widened as he caught his first glimpse of Daryl’s back. Thick scars covered his back, some old and some very fresh. The new ones were surrounded by bright red skin and some of them even showed signs of yellowish-green drainage. Both of those things were signs of infection, a bad infection.

Michonne caught a glimpse of her husband’s face and swallows hard as she gingerly removed the rest of the shirt. Both of them felt lumps form in their throats when the entirety of his back came into view. Slashes stretching from the top of his should to the base of his spine covered his back. Many of them were red and painful looking.

“Rick, call Denise and ask her what we should do to treat these. I’ll take him in the bathroom and try to clean them out in the shower,” Michonne said as she carefully lifted Daryl up into her arms.

He cried out softly at the pull on his back, but settled again her chest wrapping his arms around her neck as pressing his face against her neck. Plan of action made, she and Rick went their separate ways. Michonne helped Daryl step out of his pants and underwear.

* * *

He got into the bathtub and sat down his left side against the wall. He hung his head down so that it rested on the wall above his shoulder. He felt absolutely defeated. He’d tried so hard to keep the wounds a secret from Michonne and Rick, but he’d failed and he was for sure going to end up in the system now. If he hadn’t been already crying from the pain, he would’ve started just by thinking about that.

He closed his eyes are he heard Michonne turn on the faucet and testing the water to make sure it was the right temperature. He felt her use a washcloth to wet his back. Soon enough she was adding soap to his back, gently making sure to clean each and every wound. He flinched from her ministrations since the soap stung. She rinsed his back off and helped him up. She immediately wrapped a clean towel around him and started to dry him off. She patted gently at his back, doing her best to not hurt him too much.

When she was done she helped him back into his underwear and pants before scooping him up and taking him out into the living room where Rick was on the phone with someone named Denise. She placed him on the couch and told him to get comfy. Daryl obeyed as she left to go get something. She came back with a cold, wet cloth most likely to help bring his fever down. Daryl closed his eyes as she ran her finger through his hair and whispered words of comfort to him.

* * *

“Oh my god!” came Denise’s shocked voice over the phone.

Denise is an old friend of Michonne’s who’d become a children’s physician with Michonne's encouragement. Rick had just finished explaining their situation to her. He told her where Michonne found him, how dirty he’d been, and how bad his wounds now looked.

“Why the hell didn’t you check them sooner if you knew they were there?” she demanded.

“We weren’t sure if they were fresh or not. Michonne only felt them through his shirt. This morning is the first time we’ve seen them. It’s really bad Denise. They’re all over his back.”

“How bad is the infection? Any drainage? Redness around the wounds?”

“Yes, but not a lot of drainage. Just on the deeper ones.”

“Okay, you’re at the cabin right?”

“Yes...”

“Good. Tara and I will be there in half an hour.”

“Denise, you don’t have to do that...” Rick started to protest.

“Do you have enough gauze to cover his back? Antibiotic ointment for the gashes?” she questioned him fiercely.

“No...”

“That’s what I thought. Just hang tight until we get there. Michonne's already thoroughly cleaned the wounds which is good. Make sure to give him something for the pain.”

With that, she hung up. Rick looked down at his phone, that woman was something else. Normally she was the most soft spoken person on the planet, but when a child is in danger she becomes downright terrifying. Rick turned away from the kitchen window to see his wife setting Daryl down on the couch.

She stood up and went down the hall reappearing with a clean washcloth in her hand. She walked over to the kitchen sink and ran the cloth underneath come cold water.

“What did Denise say?” she asked.

“She insisted on coming here. She said her and Tara would be here soon.”

“Really? She didn’t have to...”

“I know, I told her that but she made some good points. We don’t what’s need to truly treat his wounds. Plus, having a doctor whom we trust check him will help us in the investigation into his home life.”

She nodded turning off the tap and wringing the water out, “Hopefully this will help bring down his fever a bit. Get some pain meds, water, and cracker for him would you please?”

“Yeah,” Rick replied reaching into the cabinet for some ibuprofen.

As he was filling a glass with water he watched as his wife knelt down next to Daryl and start combing her fingers through his hair. It was such a simple gesture, but Rick would bet anything Daryl hadn’t felt such love or kindness for a long time. Rick walked over with the pills, water  and food. He helped Daryl sit up long enough to eat some crackers—since ibuprofen shouldn’t be taken on an empty stomach—and take the pills before laying him back down. Michonne resumed running her fingers through his hair as they waited for Denise and Tara to arrive.

* * *

Denise and Tara arrived 30 minutes later just like they said.

“Where is he?” were the first words out of Denise’s mouth, a decision that was not all that well thought through.

She hadn’t said it harshly, she was definitely worried about Daryl, but in his delirious state from the fever and pain he must’ve thought it was someone coming to take him away because he started hyperventilating. Michonne immediately began comforting him, explaining that they were here to help treat his wounds, not take him away.

“You swear they’re not with the system?” he whispered, his voice shaking from fear.

“I swear. I’m never going to let them take you from me,” Michonne promised, kissing him on his cheek.

While Tara started preparing the ointment and gauze, Denise slowly started to approach Daryl. She wanted him to be as comfortable as possible with her so that he’d let her touch his back. She could see in his face how apprehensive he was about letting her near him, but with Michonne's words of encouragement, he wasn’t telling her to stay away. He let her get right up to the edge of the couch, but he flinched when she went to touch him.

“No!” he whimpered, moving away from her hand, “I only want Michonne.”

“It’s okay, she’s here to help,” Michonne soothed.

“I don’t want her to touch me. I don’t trust her.”

Michonne looked up at Denise at a loss.

“It’s okay if you don’t want me to touch you. I can tell Michonne what to do and she can do it, okay?” Denise suggested.

“Okay,” Daryl agreed relaxing slightly.

“I’ll demonstrate how to wrap the gauze on Tara, if that’s okay?” Denise said to Michonne.

Michonne nodded her understanding. Denise got up from beside the couch and walked over to Tara to see how she was doing on preparing the treatment.

“Michonne?” Daryl whispered looking up at her.

“Yes?”

“I’m scared.”

Michonne gave him a sad smile and moved her hand so that it caressed his cheek, “I know, but all of this is going to make you feel better. Do you trust me?”

Daryl nodded against her hand, pressing his face up into it, desperate for her kind touch. She wanted to cry right there at how touch deprived he was. Now that he trusted her, he always wanted to be touching her, but he was still scared to ask for it most of the time. From her time in the system she knew how seriously damaging touch deprivation was for young children. She wondered when the last time Daryl had been held close and loved.

Denise came back over with Tara and Rick following close behind. Rick was holding a camera to document what they were doing for the case. As soon as he took the pictures he was going to go email his boss, Captain Glenn Rhee. Rick’s partner, Detective Rosita Espinosa, should be down to help him investigate the case by this afternoon. First things first, however, they’ll need to meet up with the police here to discuss terms of an inter-departmental investigation.

“Daryl, would you mind rolling onto your stomach for us, please?” Denise asked gently.

Daryl nodded and carefully rolled onto his stomach after Michonne took the cool towel off of his forehead. Denise handed Michonne the ointment and instructed her on how to properly apply it. Daryl cried out as the ointment seeped into some of the larger gashes. Michonne winced at the sound, but she pushed on and kept applying the creamy mixture.

Once his entire back had been tended to, Denise briefly showed Michonne how to wrap his torso on Tara. Rick had already disappeared into his office to send the pictures to Glenn. Michonne helped Daryl sit up so that she could wrap him in the gauze. It was a long, difficult process, but Michonne managed to get him all bandaged up with the verbal guidance of Denise. She looked up to check the time on the clock hanging on the wall next to the front door, 10:00 am.

“Daryl, are you hungry?” she asked him.

Daryl shook his head no.

“Do you want to just rest for a while?”

Daryl nodded his head. Michonne helped him lay down on the couch while Tara went to fetch a pillow out of Carl’s room. Once the comfy pillow was in place Michonne pulled the blanket down from the top of the couch to cover his body. Daryl immediately snuggled up under the blanket and fell asleep.

The three women walked over to the kitchen and sat down at the table in the far left corner of the room since the island could only seat two. Michonne laid her head down onto her arms resting on the table and finally let her emotions go. She cried for Daryl and the pain he was enduring because of his parents. She longed to just scoop him up and take him home with her right now, but they had to go through the process of removing him from his father’s care by the numbers if she hoped to keep him.

She felt someone’s hand start rubbing her back as she cried. When she was finished, she sat up to look at the two other women at the table.

“Thank you for coming,” she croaked out, her throat mildly sore from crying.

“Of course,” Denise said, continuing to rub circles on Michonne’s back.

“The second Rick explained what was going on, we knew we needed to drive up. It’s a good thing you guys vacation so close,” Tara continued.

“You guys need anything to drink or eat?” Michonne asked, doing her best to wipe her tears away with the sleeves of her pajamas.

“We’re okay, but thank you,” Tara answered.

They all looked up upon hearing a door open and close in the hallway. Rick walked out talking on his cellphone to someone.

“Thank you,” he said into the receiver, “I’ve already texted her the address. Good-bye.”

Rick ended the call and joined the women at the table after quickly checking on Daryl.

“Who was that?” Michonne questioned.

“That was Glenn. Rosita is on her way here now. I just sent her the address for our cabin. She should be arriving within the hour. As soon as Glenn saw those pictures he called me and told Rosita to get ready. Rosita is bringing me my spare uniform.”

“Good. The sooner we get him away from his family, the better,” Michonne said, glancing over at Daryl.

“What needs to happen now?” Denise asked him.

“Well, first we need to go down to the local police department and get them to agree to open an inter-departmental case with us. Then, we have to get a search warrant for Daryl’s old house. Next, we have to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s his parents who are abusing him and take them to court. Finally, we have to get his father to sign him over to me and Michonne.”

“How long could this process take?” Tara cut in.

“It depends entirely on how cooperative the people here are. We’re going to need witness statements, physical evidence and a conviction of child abuse by a jury or confessions directly from Daryl’s parents.”

“What will happen to his parents when they’re convicted?” Michonne asked, secretly hoping it would result in them getting thrown off a very high cliff.

“If they confess, they’ll get a maximum sentence of nine months in prison, but if they plead not guilty and then get convicted by a jury, they’ll spend the next two years in prison.”

“So we want this to go to trial?” Tara asked confused.

“No, we absolutely do not want this to go to trial. We want a confession because if it goes to trial Daryl will have to testify against his parents on the stand and I’d rather not put him through that if we don’t have to.”

“Agreed,” Michonne nodded her head at her husband’s statement.

As a lawyer, she knew how difficult it was for children to testify on the stand at all, let alone against their own parents. She always did her best to keep children out of the courtroom. Unfortunately, she couldn’t be Daryl’s lawyer if it came to that because her connection with him would be considered a conflict of interest in the case. She also couldn’t apoint herself his legal guardian, another lawyer and judge had to agree and sign off on it.

As soon as the case was made official, she was going to call her office and ask her close friend Sasha Williams if she’d be willing to take the case and be Daryl’s lawyer and representative. There was almost no doubt in her mind that Sasha, one of the best lawyers in the state of Georgia, would accept the case once she found out the details of it.

“So all that’s left to do is wait for the investigation to unfold?” Denise questioned.

“Yep,” Rick confirmed.

Michonne let her gaze drift over Rick’s shoulder to the couch where Daryl lay fast asleep. They have their game plan all set, now it’s time to get to work.


	5. Captain Philip Blake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for the short wait, but I got so caught up with a new show I couldn’t write all weekend.  
> Seriously tho, if you want to watch an amazing, healthy gay relationship on screen, I seriously recommend Malec from Shadowhunters. It’s absolutely beautiful. It’s an amazing show and I can’t wait for it to come back on February 25th! :D (Avaliable to watch on Hulu)
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

A knock on the door broke everyone out of their vigil over Daryl who was still asleep on the couch. Rick stood up and walked over to the door and was greeted by Rosita, fully dressed in her detective uniform, her gun strapped to her hip, holding out his uniform. Rick gratefully accepted the uniform from her and let her inside.

“I saw those pictures you send Glenn. We’ve got some asses to kick, get dressed. The police station is expecting us,” she said as soon as she stepped through the threshold of the door.

Rick nodded, “feel free to come in and sit down while I change.”

Rick left the main room to put on his detective uniform and grab his gun from the dresser from beside his bed.

“How is he?” Rosita asked as she made her way over to the couch.

She looked down at the boy, Daryl, lying asleep on the couch. Tara was sitting in the armchair, Denise was positioned at Daryl’s feet, and Michonne was sitting on the armrest at his head, her fingers running through his hair.

“Better now that we were able to treat his wounds,” Denise answered looking up at Rosita as she walked over and leaned on the back of the couch.

“Those are some of the worst scars I’ve ever seen,” Rosita whispered taking in exactly how much of his back was covered in bandages.

At a good 95 percent of his back was covered in white gauze and the other five percent had healed scar tissue maring it. Daryl shifted slightly in his sleep and whimpered as the movement pulled on his back. His bandages would need changed and the ointment reapplied in a few hours. Nobody was looking forward to having to wake him up for that. The process hurt him and while it was for his own good, he’d endured enough pain for a lifetime.

It didn’t take long for Rick to come back all ready to go. He kissed Michonne goodbye and gently touched Daryl’s cheek before following Rosita out the door.

“Do the cops here know why two Kings Creek detectives are paying them a visit?” Rick asked as he drove down the main road into town.

“I’m not exactly sure what Glenn told them, but he did say he let them know it’s a child abuse case.”

Rick nodded, “Did he say what their reaction was?”

“No, but I could tell from his expression that he doesn’t think getting their cooperation is going to be easy. He warned me that the people around here are very private and don’t enjoy talking to police. I do know that this district has a fairly high crime rate, but a lower than average arrest rate.”

“Great, so the cops probably don’t really give a shit?”

“Probably not,” Rosita frowned, “I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them were dirty cops, too.”

“Yeah, it’s no secret this district is known for the drug trade. I’d be willing to bet that a few of the local cops found a way to benefit from it as long as it doesn’t get too violent. Did you look into Daryl’s family?” Rick asked as they passed a rusty welcome sign on their right.

“Yeah, his mother died when he was seven in a house fire. The fire was determined to be an accidental fire that she started when she fell asleep on the couch drinking and smoking.”

“The cigarette somehow made contact with the alcohol and then...” Rick trailed off.

“Yeah. It was ruled an accidental suicide. His brother is in jail for armed robbery, assault and battery, and drug charges.”

“How long has he been in there and when is he predicted to get out?”

“He’s been there for three years already and his first chance at parole isn’t for another five years, four if he behaves himself. Based on his prison record, however, it’s going to be five years.”

“If he doesn’t make parole?”

“He’ll still have another three years after the five.”

Rick nodded, it was beginning to become clear that the abuse was only being perpetrated by his father since the rest of his family has been gone for a while.

“He has an uncle, but he was just released from jail two months ago and is currently on parole. He was arrested on charges of assault and battery and attempted murder.”

“Damn, this kid’s family is more more messed up that I thought.”

“His father, Will Dixon, is our biggest concern since he’s our prime suspect for who is abusing him. He’s got a long history of drunk and disorderly charges with the odd assault charge scattered around. There is nothing about possible child abuse listed in his file, so either they don’t know or didn’t want to deal with it.”

“Great, this investigation is starting to sound like it’s going to be an uphill battle to get their cooperation in this case,” Rick groaned.

They’d arrived at the local police station and Rick could really feel his senses of optimism fading. There was a single cop car parked out front that looked like it had been there for a while. The building itself could use a little maintenance, the outdoor paint was peeling off and there was plastic wrap covering a smashed window. Through the clear windows Rick could see a receptionist playing on her phone and two cops chatting by a water fountain at the back of the room. The entire atmosphere screamed “we don’t care.”

They both looked at each other in apprehension before climbing out of Rick’s car and walking to the door. The door rang as they entered and the secretary didn’t even look up from her phone to address them, the cops at the back of the room didn’t stop talking either.

Absentmindedly, the secretary spoke, “You can find the correct paperwork for whatever crime you’re here to report in the colored bins over there. Bring the report to me when you’re finished.”

She pointed over to a long table with clear plastic bins on it. Above each bin was a sign telling people what the crime the paperwork was for. Rick was appalled that the people here didn’t even care enough to address whoever came through the door.

Rick walked up to the desk, his face set in stone, “Excuse me, miss...” he started.

“Did you fill out a form?” she interrupted, still not looking up at him.

“I’m Detective Rick Grimes and this is my partner Detective Rosita Espinosa. We’re here concerning an interdepartmental child abuse case.”

This time the secretary looked up at him, her face obviously portrayed how shocked she was.

“I’m so sorry, sir. If I’d known it was you...”

“It shouldn’t matter who I am. You should be taking care of every person that walks through that door,” Rosita cut in, she was pissed.

“Sorry, ma’am. Let me ring Captain Philip Blake. He did mention he was expecting a visit from some out of town cops.”

“Detectives,” Rosita corrected sharply.

The woman didn’t respond, she just pushed a button on her intercom, “Captain Blake, there are two _detectives_ here to see you.”

“Thank you, Andrea,” a voice responded, “send them back.”

Andrea acknowledged his request and pointed them in the direction of the captain’s office. Their concerns about the lack of care in this department only reinforced, they made their way back to meet Captain Blake. Rick knocked on the closed door and a voice told him to come in. He opened the door and was greeted with the sight of a man lounging at his desk, his feet propped up on a short filing cabinet. His jacket was hung up on a hook next to the door and his holster laid abandoned on his desk, his gun still in it. Needless to say, Rick and Rosita weren’t impressed with Captain Blake.

“Ah, detectives. Welcome. Please, take a seat,” he spoke nonchalantly, guesting with his hand at the two empty chairs in front of his desk.

As they took their seats, Blake swung his feet of the cabinet and pulled himself into a proper sitting position. The air in the room shifted immediately from casual to serious.

“Now what is this case you’ve brought to our attention?” he asked folding his arms on his desk in front of him.

“We’re here to open an investigation on Will Dixon for child abuse,” Rick stated bluntly, “My wife and I have a cabin outside of town that we stay in sometimes when we need to get away. My wife found Daryl Dixon, his youngest son, sitting out in the rain the night of that big storm. She offered him shelter and this morning we discovered signs of severe child abuse.”

Blake stared at them for a second, before slowly speaking, “What evidence of this do you have? I mean, it’s no secret the man’s a drunk, but child abuse?”

“Yes, severe child abuse. His has scars that appear to be from a belt all across his back. Some of them are very fresh, happened within the last few days, and others are much older. I took pictures of his back to use in the case.”

Blake shifted uncomfortably in his chair, only slightly, but Rosita caught it.

“Did you know!?!” she demanded.

“What?” Blake tried to play it off.

“Did you know that Will Dixon was abusing his son?” she growled about half a second away from standing up and getting in the bastard’s face.

Blake sighed, “Yes...”

Rick stared at him in with both shock and disappointment, “If you knew, why didn’t you ever do anything?”

Blake shrugged, “Because it wasn’t worth it.”

Rick’s jaw dropped, “It’s not worth saving a child to you?”

“A normal child, sure, but not a Dixon. Dixons are known for trouble. His father’s a drunk, his mom was too, and his brother’s in jail. The kid’s a lost cause already. No point in me wasting my time trying to save him. Nothing good comes from the Dixon bloodline,” Blake spat.

Honestly, neither Rick or Rosita knew what to say to that. The callousness with which those words had been spoken had sent them both reeling. They thought they might meet some resistance out of sheer laziness, but not disregard of Daryl’s case because they’d already condemned him.

“I mean,” Blake continued, “the abuse isn’t exactly a secret. At least, not a well kept one. Most of the town knows and doesn’t care. The few that do, are older and don’t trust child protective services to do any better. The boy is more than welcome to run away if it gets too bad, but so far he hasn’t.”

“He’s a child with nowhere else to go!” Rick cut in angrily.

“So, anyone will run if they’re desperate enough.”

Rosita had about enough of this asshole’s comments about Daryl, “Look, you don’t have to help us with this case. We just need you to sign off on allowing an interdepartmental case. Are you going to okay our investigation or not?”

Blake sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, “I honestly don’t care if you want to go after Will Dixon. Couldn’t care less if he was gone for good. Just don’t expect any help from our department. If you want to do this, you’re on your own.”

“Fine,” Rick spoke, his anger thinly veiled, “All I ask is you give us the address of Will Dixon’s house.”

“Well, I don’t have a specific address. I do know how to get there though. Take the main road north out of town and then turn right onto Rabbit Run drive. You’ll see an old, rundown trailer about a mile down the road. That’s the Dixon residence. There’s usually a triumph motorcycle and a rusty red pickup truck sitting out front.”

“We’ll also need a search warrant,” Rosita chimed in.

“Oh yes, ask Andrea for one before you leave. We’ve got a few spare ones lying around just in case. That way we don’t always have to go to the judge to get one.”

“That’s not legal...” Rick started.

“It’s fine as long as he’s tried here. The judge likes to sign a stack of them at once so that we aren’t constantly bothering him. Andrea will just write in the date, the reason for the search, and the name of the resident.”

“Thanks for your help,” Rosita said feigning politeness as she stood up to leave.

“My pleasure,” Blake smiled at her.

His smile made her shiver slightly, the guy was more than a little creepy in her opinion. Rick shook the man’s hand before they left the office. They stopped at Andrea’s desk and sure enough, she had about a dozen extra search warrants in her desk. She just filled out the necessary information and handed it to them.

They walked in silence out to Rick’s car, both too stunned by the dysfunction of the police station. No wonder this place had such a high crime rate with such a low arrest rate; it’s because the cops don’t care. They don’t matter, however, as long as they don’t get in their way of freeing Daryl from his abusive father.

“Can you believe them?” Rosita curled her lip in disgust once they’d climbed back into Rick’s car and closed the doors.

“No, this has to be the worst precinct in all of Georgia,” Rick answered equally disgusted.

“No wonder Daryl’s never been helped. Nobody in this whole fucking town gives a shit about him.”

“It’s even worse that they all know what’s going on and still don’t help him.”

“I hate this place,” Rosita growled.

“Agreed,” Rick said putting the car into reverse and backing up, “As soon as this case is closed and Daryl is safely in my and Michonne’s custody, I’m selling that cabin and getting a new one somewhere else.”

“Good idea,” Rosita answered.

“Let’s go pay Will Dixon a visit,” Rick said has he pulled out into the main road.

“Yeah, let’s go kick some Dixon ass,” she mumbled as she checked her gun’s condition, letting it give a satisfying click  before placing back in its holster.


	6. Will Dixon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosita and Rick visit Will Dixon and see first hand just how horrible Daryl's living conditions are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Paul will be coming into the story in the next few chapters, I promise. We're almost there.

It wasn’t long before Rick was pulling into the driveway of what he assumed was Daryl’s house. In the driveway there sat the rusty red truck and triumph motorcycle Captain Blake had told them about. The bike was in peak condition and stood out in strong contrast with the rest of the house. The trailer was dirty, black streaks of dirt and mud running from the top of the trailer to the bottom. Attached to the gross trailer was an equally rundown house. What used to probably be nice white siding was broken in several places and just as dirty as the trailer. The front porch looked ready to collapse at any given moment.

Discarded beer bottle were scattered all over the yard along with bits of trash. The trashcan sitting next to the house was overflowing with old fast food wrappers, beer packaging, and what looked to be dead animal carcasses. There were multiple cracks in the windows, one of which was practically falling off the side of the house. Honestly, the place looked abandoned. If it wasn’t for the cleanliness of the bike and fresh tire tracks in the mud, Rick might have assumed it was.

“My god,” Rosita grimaced, “this place is disgusting.”

She scrunched up her as a foul odor hit her nose as she filled her pockets with evidence bags and handed some to Rick. The place reeked of old trash; the stench of the rotting flesh of the dead animals didn’t hit them until they got closer and made them both gag.

“Yeah, we need to get Daryl away from this place. If not for abuse then lack of hygiene,” Rick said covering his mouth and nose with his hand in an attempt to block some of the smell.

They did their best to wipe the disgusted grimaces off their faces as they stepped onto the porch and approached the front door. It was already almost noon, so even if the elder Dixon had a hangover, at least he might be awake.

Rick took his hand away from his face and knocked on the door three times only to be greeted by a sharp, “What?!?”

“Police, open up!” Rick called back.

“Is telling him we’re cops really a smart idea?” Rosita whispered.

Rick shrugged, it probably hadn’t been. Will could choose to run or even threaten them. They both knew the Dixons weren’t exactly huge fans of the police.

“The fuck y’all want?” he answered, still not coming to the door.

“It’s about your son, Daryl” Rick responded.

The heard a loud groan from inside and suddenly the front door swung open. He was wearing a baseball hat with the confederate flag emblazoned on the front. The sleeves of his shirt had obviously been cut off with little care and the rest of the shirt was covered in various stains. His jeans were ripped in many places and were also covered in stains. He was also wearing a pair of muddy work boots that have definitely seen better days. He was clean shaven, but his eyes were bloodshot indicating heavy alcohol usage. Also, despite his beer belly, Rick could make out thick lines of muscle in his bared arms. He didn’t appear to be armed, but they weren’t able to see his back and he could have hidden a gun in the waistband of his jeans.

“What the bastard do now?” Will growled at the two.

“He didn’t do anything. My wife found him out in the storm a few days ago,” Rick explained, “He’s been staying with us at our cabin since that night.”

Will looked at him blankly, “So? He ran off. Kid’s do that sometimes.”

“Actually sir, he said you threw him out of the house and told him not to come back.”

“Yeah, I threw him outside. The damn idiot dropped one of my beer cases and shattered half of them. He could’ve waited out the storm in the shed out back.”

Rick blinked at how unconcerned about his son this man was.

“That’s not all, we’re also here to open an investigation of child abuse,” Rosita cut in, this man was obviously not grasping how serious the situation was.

Now that got Will’s attention and he looked right at her, “Child abuse? I’m definitely a supporter of corporal punishment, but I wouldn’t call it abuse.”

“He has severe scars all across his back!”

“Listen here bitch, what I do with my son is none of your business,” he spat angrily, “Now get the fuck off my property!”

Rosita went to throw a punch at him, but Rick caught her arm.

“We don’t need him to claim police brutality and get the case dismissed,” Rick warned her quietly.

Rosita was still glowering as she lowered her fist back to her side. She wasn’t normally this on edge, but when it comes to children everyone was a bit more quick to confrontation.

Rick subtly turned on his body cam video, he’d had the audio on the whole time, and turned back to Will, “Sir, we have a warrant to search your house for evidence of abuse, please step aside.”

Will didn’t budge.

“Sir, child abuse is a very serious charge. If you don’t let us in, we will be required to use force,” Rick warned him placing his hand on his gun.

Will curled his upper lip back at the movement, but stepped back to allow them entry.  
“Thank you,” Rick said, not removing his hand from the gun.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, they were hit with even more awful smells. The left side of the trailer must’ve been removed because the main room of the house transitioned easily into the trailer. There was a hallway leading back to what Rick assumed were bedrooms and at the end he could make out a bathroom. What appeared to be old vomit stained the light brown carpet of the main room.

An old TV sat on a makeshift stand across from a very old pleather couch which was also covered with suspicious stains. In the kitchen, Rick could see a pile of dirty dishes sitting in the sink and a fridge that probably used to be white. The counters were scratched and littered with more empty beer bottles. Two unopened cases of beer sat next to the fridge while a half empty case was placed on the coffee table right in front of the couch. The entire place reeked of alcohol and cigarettes. Rick made a mental note to have Daryl’s lungs checked for second hand smoke inhalation damage.

Rick didn’t even try to hide his disgust at the living conditions both inside and outside as he turned around to look at Will. Rosita was standing to his left taking in the unhygienic house Daryl was forced to live in.

Will was just glaring at him, “So, what exactly is it you’re looking for?”

“Anything that can prove you’re the one abusing your son,” Rick responded moving to walk back towards the bedrooms, “Which room is his?”

“The one at the end on the right,” came Will’s response as he sat down on his gross couch.

Once he was close enough, he could see that the door had been busted off its hinges multiple times. Rick quickly snapped a picture of it and of the multiple huge dents from where Will had probably kicked the door in. The beaten door swung open with a loud creaking noise to reveal what was supposed to be Daryl’s room.

In the far left corner was a mattress. There were some gray sheets on it, but they were terribly stained and fraying at the edges. The carpet was a dark green and was surprisingly clean. The single window didn’t have any curtains and there was tape over a long crack running from the base up about halfway. His closet didn’t have any doors on it and he could see all of five shirts, two pairs of pants, a couple pairs of underwear and some socks. There were no extra shoes or jackets hung up and there weren’t any on the floor. He closed the door partially to see the back of it, but there weren’t any hooks.

_Are these all the clothes he has?_

He spotted a dresser in the back corner of the room that had been originally obscured by the door. Rick made his way over to it and pulled the top drawer out. Instead of clothes, he was met with a rather alarming collection of knives ranging from small pocket knives to large hunting knives. The next drawer revealed a bunch of crossbow bolts and oil. When he opened the final drawer, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Lying in the bottom drawer was a 22mm glock. It was all black and an opened case of bullets laid next to it. That’s when Rick noticed the crossbow that was propped against the wall. It was black and green with a camouflage handle and it looked to be in very good condition.

This was obvious child endangerment, even if all of this stuff belonged to Daryl. No child should have access to these kinds of weapons and especially not in this quantity. Daryl had mention he liked to hunt using a crossbow and that it’s where most of his food come from, but Rick had not been anticipating the quantity of his collection.

Other than that horrifying find, the room was pretty much bare of any personality at all. There were no posters or even a collection of toys to be seen. The only thing that resembled a toy a child might have was a fake bow and arrow lying at the bottom of his bed. It was made of cheap wood and the arrows had bright red suction cups on the end. There was a makeshift target on the wall made out of black duct tape. There were a few holes in the wall from when Daryl must’ve shot real crossbow bolts at it. Rick couldn’t help but be impressed by how little the holes varied in placement with most of them hitting the bullseye.

A sharp yell by Rosita had him sprinting back into the main room.

* * *

Rosita walked towards the kitchen while Rick took off towards the bedrooms and Will sat down on the couch. Daryl’s living condition were deplorable. The kitchen smelled of old food and a few flies circled the mess of dirty dishes in the sink. She opened the fridge only to find a few unlabeled tupperware containers of cooked meat. There was single open bag of carrots, but they looked to be way past their expiration date. In the cupboards she found a ton of canned food ranging from various soups to green beans and corn. She picked up a couple at random and was horrified when she noticed they were more than three months expired. They were probably still safe because they’re canned, but still.

The counters didn’t help much either. In the breadbox there was half a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. When she touched the bread it felt stale and upon closer inspection she found a few spots of mold on the bottom. She walked over to the pile of gross dishes and noticed there wasn’t any soap in sight. She opened the cabinet door underneath and still didn’t see any. They must not use soap to clean their dishes, because she failed to find any in the entire kitchen.

Having seen enough of that, she left the kitchen and walked down the hall to the bathroom. The toilet had rust stains all over it, as did the bathtub. Both looked like they’d never been cleaned. The mirror hanging over the sink had been shattered and the sink was also in pretty bad condition. The floor was suspiciously sticky, so she left almost as soon as she walked in.

The only door in the hallway that was open was what appeared to be Will’s room since it had a double bed and its own bathroom. She stepped inside and was immediately hit by the smell of vomit and urine. The carpet was stained by probably both and the bed was a mess. There was a small trashcan next to the head of the bed, but there were a lot of crumpled up tissues lying around it. There was no way in hell she was going anywhere near those.

The windows had no blinds and the closet door was broken and hanging off of its hinges. Dirty shirts, pants, socks, and pairs of underwear littered the floor. A set of five hunting rifles and two glocks sat on top of the dresser on the left side of the room. She walked over to it doing her best to avoid stepping on Will’s clothes. She opened the top drawer and said a silent prayer of thanks that she’d chosen to wear her biker gloves today. The top drawer just had more shirts and the middle drawer had more pants. The bottom drawer is what caught her attention.

Inside was underwear, socks, and four black leather belts. Ignoring the underwear, many of which had holes in them, she picked up one of the belts to inspect it. The gashes on Daryl’s back had most likely been made by a belt, so finding Will’s belt collection was perfect. She stood up to examine it in the light coming in from the window only to see what was unmistakably dried blood on it. She carefully rolled the belt up and took out an evidence bag from her pocket and placed it inside. She did the same for all of his other belts, even the ones without any obvious dried blood on them.

A smile of triumph was plastered on her lips as she left the room. _He’s so busted!_

“What are you doing with all my belts?” Will demanded standing up from the couch as soon as he saw her walk in carrying them.

“I’m taking them for the case,” she replied heading for the front door, “The wounds on his back were most likely caused by a belt, so I’m going to send all your belts to a lab to be tested for Daryl’s DNA.”

Will’s nostrils flared as she walked past him, but before she could reach the door Will grabbed her by her hair and dragged her backwards. She yelled out in pain, grabbing at her ponytail and trying to brace herself. She gasped as her back hit the floor and Will’s foot connected with her side. She cried out, but rolled over and jumped up into her fighting stance. Will charged at her, but she easily sidestepped and tripped him. Will caught himself on the TV stand as wasted no time in whipping around and punching her in the back of the head. She stumbled forward slightly before turning back around to face him. She was just about to attack when Rick came running into the room and was caught off-guard by Will slamming into him from the side.

Rick went flying, his gun falling from his hands, as he hit the ground and rolled a couple times before stilling. He groaned and started to stand up as Will advanced on him.

“Don’t move!” Rosita yelled pulling her gun from its holster and aiming it at Will.

Will froze at her voice and slowly turned to face her staring at the gun in her hands.

“Hands up!” she demanded again.

Will grudgingly complied with her orders and lifted his hands above his head. Behind him Rick got to his feet and pulled his pair of handcuffs from his belt.

“Will Dixon, you are under arrest for child abuse and assaulting a police officer,” Rick began cuffing Will’s hands behind his back, “Everything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law...”

After they finished telling him rights, the each took one of his arms and led him out to Rick’s car. Since they didn’t have their normal police car, Rosita kept her gun trained on Will while Rick set up the makeshift wire divider he’d rigged for his car a few years back. Once it was in place, Rosita motioned for Will to get in the back.

“It’s over Will,” she said before slamming the door in his face.


	7. Interrogation

“Thanks for the update,” Michonne said to Rosita on the other end of the line before hanging up.

“What’s the news?” Tara asked from where she was sprawled out on the floor playing  _ UNO _ with Daryl.

He’d woken up about an hour after Rick and Rosita had left and quietly asked if they could play some more games instead of talking about it. They all had questions they wanted answered, but they’d already gotten the most important information from him, so they agreed. Tara is now hellbent on beating Daryl at one game because so far, he’s been absolutely dominating her. He destroyed her in checkers, absolutely humiliated her at battleship and now he’s running circles around her at  _ UNO _ .

“UNO!” Daryl cheered, a smile of triumph spread across his face as he placed a red 2 on top of the pile.

“Damn it,” Tara grumbled, “I’ve got half the deck and I still have no red cards. How the hell do I not have 2 or a wild?!?”

Tara grumbled under her breath as she started drawing more cards until she could find one to play.

“Ah-ha, gotcha!” Tara yelled, “Plus 4 to you and I call blue.”

Daryl stuck his tongue out at her and drew his four.

Michonne smiled at their antics. Tara’s personality while playing competitive games had shifted Daryl’s focus off the pain in his back and allowed him to laugh. Denise was in the kitchen preparing some lunch, homemade spaghetti and meatballs. No matter how much Michonne had insisted that she didn’t have to do that, Denise waved her off.

“Yeah, what happened down at the station?” Denise called from the stove as she stirred her delicious fresh tomato sauce.

Michonne glanced cautiously over to Daryl before speaking, “After going to the department and getting permission, they went to Daryl’s house.”

Michonne noticed that Daryl’s focus on the game had waned as he listened to what she was saying.

“Rosita found evidence on him of child abuse and they arrested Will, Daryl’s father.”

Tara stopped playing upon noticing that Daryl was no longer paying attention. They all turned to look at Daryl to see his reaction to the news.

“What evidence?” Daryl asked softly, not looking at any of them.

“Rosita found his belts in his room. Some had dried blood on them and if results come back saying it’s your blood, it’s pretty convincing evidence against him,” Michonne responded.

Daryl nodded still not making eye contact with them, “What’s going to happen to me?”

Michonne made her way over to him and knelt down beside him, “It’s up to you really.”

“What do you mean?” he asked finally looking up at her.

“Well, Rick and I talked the first night you were here. We already knew something was wrong, we just didn’t know how bad it was. We agreed that if you wanted to, you could come stay with us.”

“But I am staying with you. I want to know what happens now that my Dad’s in custody.”

Daryl was clearly not understanding what Michonne was offering.

“No, I meant, would you like to stay with us forever?”

Daryl just stared at her, his eyes wide and unblinking.

* * *

Daryl couldn’t find it in him to respond. He wanted to so badly, but he was frozen. He’d just been offered a chance at his dream, a wistful hope he’s believed to be unattainable. He appreciated their kindness so far, but he never anticipated they’d offer him a forever home away from the sting of his father’s belt.

“Rick’s going to talk to the local judge about releasing you into our custody officially and then we’ll have to start the foster-to-adopt process,” she continued.

“You mean...” Daryl started, but his voice got caught in his throat.

“Yes?” she encouraged.

He cleared his throat and tried again, “You mean, you and Rick would be my new family?”

Michonne nodded, “Yes, you’d become our son, a part of our family.”

“I can live here forever?”

“Well, not here specifically. This is just our vacation cabin, we live less than an hour from here though.”

That was fine with Daryl, he hated this town and the people here felt the same towards him. If he never saw this place again, it would be too soon.  _ Wait... did she say son? _

“Did you just say I’d be your son?” he whispered, not believing he’d heard her right.

Michonne nodded, “Yeah, you’d be our son.”

He didn’t even really think about what he was doing, he just dropped his cards and threw himself at her. She caught him and wrapped her arms around his back while his wound their way around her neck. He could feel tears slipping from his eyes without his consent and could hear how labored his breathing had become. He was in shock that two strangers could care so much about him that they’d be willing to accept him into their lives forever as their son. They weren’t taking him out of charity or moral obligation, they were offering to take him because they cared about him.

When he finally managed to catch his breath he pulled away from her, “Do I have to go down to the station?”

“Not right now, we’re waiting to hear back on the DNA report from the belts. If they come back positive with your blood...”

“They will,” Daryl cut in, “he never bothered to wash the blood off because nobody ever cared before.”   
She paused before continuing, “Well, when the reports come back and they present the evidence to your father, he’ll have two choices: sign a confession or plead not guilty. If he signs the confession, he’ll should be sentenced within the next 24-48 hours. If he pleads not guilty, however, you’ll need to testify in a trial against him.”

“Testify? As is answer questions about what he did to me in front of people?” he asked shrinking in on himself.

“Hey,” he felt Tara touch his shoulder comfortingly, “we’re going to everything we can to stop that from happening.”

He looked at her and could see the sincerity in her eyes. These people care about him and not out of obligation like some of the nicer townspeople do.

“I bet you ten bucks that I can beat your butt at  _ Settlers of Catan _ .”

Daryl felt his competitive side starting to come back around, “You’re on!”

Out the corner of his eye he could see Michonne smiling at him. He wasn’t ready to call her anything except Michonne, but he was really happy that she wanted for him to join her family.

* * *

Rick closed the interrogation room door behind him and looked up at Will who was handcuffed to the table in the center of the room. Rosita was behind the mirrored glass at the back of the room to watch Will’s reactions to Rick’s questions. She was going to observe what got him in his head, any weaknesses in his arrogant attitude should he refused to talk. The man refused to talk to either of them about anything until he spoke to a lawyer.

Since he didn’t have any money to pay for one, they had to wait for over an hour for the local one to arrive after dealing with another client. He was the only lawyer for people who couldn’t afford around. The lawyer, Gareth West, was a creepy looking dude that smelled of beer and gave off an attitude of “I couldn’t care less.” All he did was show Will what they had on him, told him how long he’d go away for if he confessed or denied the allegations, and encouraged him to confess if the belts came back with Daryl’s DNA on them because it would result in less jail time.

“So Will, the reports on your belts came back. Want to guess what it says?” Rick sat down in front of him, confidence buzzing in his ears.

Will stayed silent. Gareth had also warned him to remain silent until he was told the results of the report.

“They came back positive,” Rick said leaning forward on the table to show Will the positive match.

Will glared at him from across the table, hatred burning in his eyes.

Rick sighed at Will’s lack of response, “Look Will, those belts are covered in Daryl’s blood and since you live alone with him, it’s pretty much an open and shut case from here on out whether to make this go to trial or not. So, you’ve got two options, confess and get a shorted sentence or plead not guilty and end up going to jail for a much longer period of time.”

Will didn’t move a muscle, he just kept staring at Rick like he was the devil incarnate.

Rick took out a sheet of paper and a pencil and placed him on the table between them, “You have thirty minutes to write your confession and sign it before I throw you in a cell until the trail since I doubt you have enough money to cover your bail.”

Rick stood up to leave but he turned back to look at Will one last time, “Consider your options carefully Will. We are going to win either way. There’s no access to alcohol in prison, remember that.”   
The door closed behind him with a loud click and he was met by Rosita coming out of the other room.

“There’s no alcohol in prison?” she asked him throwing him a strange look.

Rick shrugged, “I’m hoping his realization that he’ll be forced to go sober while in jail will get him to confess. He’s obviously not going to do it for the well being of his son. Figured maybe using a more selfish motive would get him on-board.”

Rosita nodded, “Makes sense, but it’s still a weird thing to say.”

They made their way out to the break room for some coffee while they waited on Will to make his decision.

“I called Michonne to let her know we arrested Will and are trying to get a confession out of him,” Rosita told him wrinkling her nose a bit at the taste of the coffee; it sucked, but she appreciated the caffeine.

Rick grimaced as well, but he threw his out instead of powering through, “How are they?”

“Tara is keeping Daryl occupied with games, Denise is cooking, and Michonne is focused on gathering all the information you’ll need to get custody of Daryl.”

“As soon as that confession is signed we can go to the judge and have him officially released into our custody. We’ll have all the proof we need to take him away from Will.”   
“What made you guys so quick to want to foster him?”

“Foster-to-adopt more specifically.”   
Rosita stared at Rick, “You want to adopt him?”

“Yeah, Michonne and I agreed that if he wanted us to, we’d accept him into our family forever.”

“That’s not a quick decision Rick, this won’t be easy. It’s only been a couple days, he’s going to have a lot of problems from what he’s been through. I know what happened with Michonne, are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“The miscarriage is actually one of the reasons Michonne wants this so bad.”   
“She not naive enough to make Daryl into a replacement for the child you lost, is she?”

“No, she knows what taking him in means, we both do. Trust me, I was worried about her using him as a crutch, too. She assured me she knew what she was doing and who am I to condemn him to a lifetime of feeling unwanted when we have the resources to care for him. Michonne was in the system herself as a child and she can’t bare to send him there because she knows just how bad it can get. If anyone can handle the problems Daryl is going to have, it’s her.”

Rosita bit her lip as she tried to understand what was going on, “Okay, I hope you guys know what you’re doing.”

“Me too, I just want him to be safe and happy, but I’m not stupid. I know how difficult this is going to be, but it’s not his behavior with us I’m worried about.”

“Oh?”

“I’m more worried about how he’s going to interact with his peers. We live in a very progressive part of Georgia and if that’s the only person who’s taught him what’s right and wrong in his life, I’m terrified to see what’s going to happen when he goes to school and tries to make friends.”

“You told me he doesn’t care about race and he’s at the cabin with Tara and Denise and he likes both of them. Those are all good signs.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’m still worried. I can’t help but look at Will in his confederate flag hat and feel fear that Daryl holds some of the same believes simply because it’s all he’s ever known.”

“Then you’ll show him the right way,” Rosita assured him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Let’s go check on Will’s progress.”

They once again went their separate ways, Rosita behind the glass and Rick in the room, to see if Will had chosen to confess. Rick walked in and looked down on the table and felt relief and joy flood his system because sitting on the table was a signed confession from Will about abusing Daryl.

“Thank you, Will. A uniformed officer will be in to take you to see the judge and be sentenced shortly.”

Rick left the room, not looking back, and gave Rosita a high-five before pulling her into a tight hug.

“We did it!” she cheered, “Now let’s go talk to that judge.”

* * *

Rick and Rosita sped over to the local town hall where the courtroom was also located. They walked up to the secretary and got a much better reception than they did at the police station. He told them to have a seat and he’d call them up when it was their turn to speak to the judge. Rick bounced him leg nervously as they waited behind a laundry list of people here to get theri sentences for double parking or public intoxication. A solid hour had passed before they were called into the courtroom.

The judge was an older man by the name of Gregory Berkeley. They’d been told at the station he was a relatively good guy, but he didn’t mind cutting a few tiny corners to make his life a little easier; hence the pre-signed search warrants at the precinct. He kind of just looked bored sitting up on the stand looking down at the file in front of him.

“So, you want custody of Daryl Dixon?” he said not looking up.

“Yes, sir,” Rick responded respectfully.

Gregory glanced up at him and Rosita, “I take it she’s your wife?”

“What? No, she’s my partner on the force. This is detective Rosita Espinosa and I’m detective Rick Grimes of the King’s County police department.”

“My apologies Miss. Espania..”   
“Espinosa.”

“Whatever, it says here Mr. and Mrs. Grimes want to foster-to-adopt the kid and there aren’t any pictures.”

Rosita just rolled her eyes and bit her tongue.

“What makes you qualified to raise a child?” Gregory asked.

“I have another son with my ex-wife and between me and my current wife we have more than enough financial stability to raise him.”   
“Okay, but why would you want him? He’s a Dixon.”

Rick bit the inside of cheek to keep himself calm, “He’s a child, I don’t care who his relatives are.”

The judge looked at him thoughtfully, “Are you taking him back to King’s County with you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. He’s all yours. Now this town will finally be rid of the Dixon bloodline,” Gregory spoke and stamped the release forms.

At that last comment Rick curled his left hand into a fist so tight he could feel his fingernails cutting into his skin. He gratefully accepted the paperwork giving him and Michonne custody of Daryl and left the courtroom. As soon as they were outside and away from the line of perps waiting to see the judge, Rick let out a joyous shout and hugged Rosita as tight as he could.

“I can’t believe it! He’s ours,” Rick said staring down at the paperwork in his hands.

“I’m really happy for you guys,” Rosita smiled at him.

“Oh! I gotta call Michonne and tell her the good news,” he exclaimed.

Rick scrambled to get his phone out of his belt and called his wife to let her know that they have a new son in Daryl Dixon.

* * *

Michonne almost dropped the phone when she heard the news that Will had confessed and been taken into custody to await sentencing. Her joy only increased as he told her they had custody of Daryl and were free to take him home as soon as Will is sentenced and the case is closed.

“Michonne, what is it?” Denise asked looking up from setting the table.

“Will Dixon has just plead guilty to child abuse. He’s been taken into custody to await sentencing. Also, Rick and I now have official custody of Daryl,” her voice was shaking, but she was smiling.

Denise’s mouth dropped open and Tara let out a shout of joy from where she was playing with Daryl.

“Did you hear that Daryl? You’re free; he’ll never be able to hurt you again. Michonne and Rick are your parents now,” Tara beamed as she told him, briefly forgetting how close she is to losing ten dollars to him at  _ Settlers of Catan. _

“You mean it? He’s gone for good?” he asked hopefully pausing in his mission to beat Tara at her favorite game.

Michonne nodded and Daryl smiled and ran over to her.

He hugged her tight, “Does this mean I’m going to be yours now?”   
“Yeah, you’re mine now,” she whispered, “And I’m not going to let anyone hurt you ever again.”

“Promise,” he whispered looking up at her.

“I promise to do my absolute best,” she said before bending over and kissing him on the forehead.


	8. Shopping Spree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the start of Daryl's new life with the Grimes.

It took another day for the judge to get around to sentencing Will Dixon. Despite Judge Gregory’s many failings, he did give Will the maximum sentence of nine months with no possibility of parole. He would then be held on probation for another three months. Rick wished he’d have gotten longer, but he really didn’t care as long as Will never came near Daryl again. They took out a restraining order on Will making it illegal for him to be within 100 feet of Daryl for the rest of his life. They set up a time to meet with Child Protective Services to being the adoption process for the following week in order to give Daryl some time to adjust to his new life. Daryl ran to Rick and gave him a hug as soon as he got home. Rick had attempted to pick him up, but Daryl flinched away from him at the motion. He still didn’t trust men as much as he did women.

Tara, and Denise had left the previous night after ensuring Rick and Michonne had the treatment process for his back under control. Rosita spent the night and went down to the courthouse to oversee Will’s sentencing before helping Rick clean out all of Daryl’s things from his old house. She then headed back to King’s County. Rick had decided to go through everything he’d found with Daryl and let him keep a few of them. But there is no way he’s keeping  _ all _ of the knives he’d found and he definitely wasn’t getting the gun back.

“Is Carl going to be there when we get there?” Daryl asked as they loaded up the car to leave.

“No, he’s with his mother, Lori, for the rest of the week and it’s only Wednesday,” she responded throwing the last of the luggage in the back of the car.

“Oh, does he know about me?”

“Not yet, but Rick is going to go over and tell him after we get back. It’ll give him time to adjust to the idea before he meets you.”

Daryl nodded, “You think he’s going to like me?”

“Yeah, I do. He might be a bit uncomfortable at first since your addition is so sudden and unexpected, but I know he’ll come around.”

Daryl just offered her a half-smile before turning around hearing Rick come outside. Rick locked the door behind him and walked over to the car.

“Ready to go?” Rick asked him bending down to be at eye-level with Daryl.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here,” Daryl said climbing into the car.

Rick gave Michonne a quick kiss on the cheek before getting into the driver’s seat and starting the car. He pulled out his CD booklet and flicked through the pages coming to his favorite rockabilly disk. Their car was really old and didn’t have a aux cord connection, so they still relied on CDs and the radio and Rick was sick of country music.

Michonne glanced over at him as she buckled herself in, “Oh no, there is no way are you scarring him with that stuff on his first car ride home.”

“What? It’s good music,” Rick defended his music choice.

“Calling it music at all is kind, let alone calling it good. We’re listening to classic rock,” Michonne playfully snapped at him and grabbed the booklet out of his hands, “Some good AC/DC.”

“Yead, they’re awesome,” Daryl cheered from the backseat.

Michonne glanced at Rick in triumph as she stuck the disk in and the open bars of  _ Thunderstruck _ blasted through the speakers. Rick could see Daryl bobbing his head to the beat and Michonne was beating her fingers against her knees. Rick just smiled and pulled out of the driveway, silently admitting defeat.

* * *

It felt like no time at all before Rick was pulling into the driveway of a what Daryl assumed was his new home. It was a general two-story with a small porch and an attached two-car garage on the left of it. The house was a light gray with white accents in the form of the windows and roofing trim. The door was a dark brown, probably oak, and on it hung a beautiful purple and blue flower wreath. There was a large garden wrapping around the front of the house and down the right side.

The garage door opened to show another car sitting in the other half of it. The black two-door scion belonged to Michonne. She bought it for herself from a used car dealership when she graduated law school and landed a job at the local law firm where she later met Rick. Rick pulled into the garage and stopped the car.

“We’re here,” he called back to Daryl who was staring around him in awe.

“It’s so clean in here,” he whispered.

“This is what a home looks like,” Michonne spoke turning around in her seat to look at him, “Where you used to live was just house.”

Daryl smiled at her, “Can I go inside?”

“Of course, come on. I’ll show you to your room,” she said getting out the car and stretching slightly.

Daryl scrambled out of the car and asked Rick, “Do you want help carrying stuff in?”

“Nah,” he responded, “go explore.”

Daryl didn’t need any more encouragement as he followed Michonne eagerly into the main house. He stopped just inside the door and stared around in awe. The place was beyond what he could’ve ever imagined. There was a definite theme in the house with random intricate swords hanging on the walls of the kitchen and living room, the only two rooms he could see so far. The kitchen was huge and there weren’t any stinking dishes in the sink. The fridge was stainless steel along with the stove and the sink. The countertops are a shiny black color which complemented the light brown cabinets above and below it and the white tile floor.

The living room had white carpet and a coffee table sitting on an intricately designed rug. It sat parallel to the wood fireplace. Light gray couches with blue accent pillows surrounded the coffee table all facing the fireplace. Atop the fireplace was a giant flat screen TV and on each side of it were pictures of who he assumed was their family. On the walls hung more swords and pictures of people Daryl didn’t know, but was sure he was going to eventually.

Michonne led him down a short hallway to the front of the house where normally guests would enter. There was a welcome mat in front of the door and a place to put their shoes next to it. Daryl copied Michonne as she removed her shoes and placed them on the mat before following her upstairs. The stairs were covered in the same carpet that was in the living room and it felt amazing beneath his feet. He felt like he was walking on a cloud.

The stairs led up into another smaller living space. It still had the same carpet as downstairs, but the couches here were a dark brown and had nice white and green decorative pillows on them. Another TV was mounted to the wall in front of them, but this one was slightly smaller. 

Around the edges of the room were a few doors. The first one on his right was open and inside he could see a huge bed and above the headboard hung a samurai sword of some kind that appeared to have been used before. The next door was closed and he wondered what was behind it. The third door was only half open and Daryl could make out a white toilet and bathtub inside. A white shower curtain with various shades of purple stripes hung halfway open and complimented the blue of the walls perfectly.

The last one in the room was open and inside Daryl could see a much smaller bed and he immediately knew it must be Carl’s room. The walls had posters of cartoon characters he’d never seen before. The only one he recognized was the Lightning McQueen one because it was the same picture that had been on Carl’s comforter at the cabin.

“This one’s going to be yours,” Michonne said taking his hand and leading him towards the only unopened door.

Inside the room was fairly plain with white walls and grey carpeting. There were a few decorations hung on the walls, but nothing that conveyed any real personality. There was a huge window at the back of the room that looked down onto the backyard. The window blind was white but the curtains were a light blue and matched the color of the plain bedspread perfectly. There was a single set of dresser drawers across from the foot of the bed and next to it was a closet. This was obviously the guest bedroom, the place visitors stayed for a night or two before going back home.

“I know this doesn’t look very welcoming just yet, but we can go shopping for some new stuff as soon as we finish unpacking the car,” Michonne promised.

“It’s fine...” Daryl started, but Michonne cut him off.

“Hey, we want you to feel at home here. This is your room and you can do whatever you want with it,” she assured him.

Daryl nodded, this was obviously something Michonne felt was important. The whole room could be neon pink for all he cared. He was just happy it was clean and had an actual bed.

* * *

Michonne took some time to show him the closet and the bathroom. They needed to add another towel hook for him, but otherwise no changes needed to be made. All he would need are his own toiletries and more clothing. She’d asked Rick last night after putting Daryl to bed how much money they could afford to spend on Daryl’s transition, but he told her not to worry about it. They had enough savings to fix up the room and buy him plenty of new clothes. She knew clothing was the most important thing since he had almost none and the stuff he did have was too big on him and stained. After showing Daryl the rest of the upstairs, she led him back downstairs to help Rick finish unpacking.

“Where’s all my stuff from my old house?” Daryl asked.

Rick looked uncertain and bent down to be eye-level with him, “I left the weapons in the garage, but the rest of your stuff is in the living room. We’ll go through it either later today or tomorrow, but you can’t keep all of your weapons. We don’t think it’s safe for you to have all of that stuff.”

Daryl shifted uncomfortably, “Can I keep the crossbow? My brother gave it to me before he got locked up.”

“Yes, you can keep the crossbow, but the bolts for it are going to be in a locked box and you’ll need to ask me or Michonne for them. Understand?”

“Yes, but what about my hunting knives?”

“We’ll go through them together and I’ll let you keep some of them, but they’ll go in the box with the bolts.”

“I doubt you’ll let me keep the gun.”

“Yeah, no. That one has to go.”

Daryl nodded, contemplating what Rick was telling him.

“Okay,” he relented, “If that’s the price to stay, I’m willing to pay it.”

Rick breathed a sigh of relief as he stood up. They ate a quick lunch and before they knew it they were back out on the road headed to Target for some long overdue clothing shopping. Daryl couldn’t keep wearing Carl’s clothes, he needed his own. Clothing is an important part of how a person presents themselves to the world and so far, Daryl hasn’t been able to do that.

Daryl’s jaw dropped when they pulled into the parking lot of the huge shopping center. To the right of Target was a whole line of stores ranging from GameStop to JCPenny. He’d probably never seen anything this big before and Rick wondered where he’d even gotten the clothing he had. Daryl grabbed Michonne’s hand as they made their way into the store. So far, Daryl hadn’t said a word. He just kept looking around in disbelief as the rows of clothing, food, and toys in front of him.

Rick immediately led them to the boy’s clothing area, “Okay, here we are. Ready to pick out your own wardrobe?”

Daryl didn’t respond or move.

Michonne knelt down next to him, “Let’s start small. Jeans or shorts?”

“Jeans,” he responded still staring at the racks of clothes.

She squeezed his hand and let him over to a wall full of jeans. She started pulling various styles and sizes off the rack and hanging them over her arm. She didn’t stop until she reached the maximum the changing room allowed.

“What’s your favorite color?” she asked him.

“Green,” he said, “like the forest.”

Michonne nodded and told Rick to start looking from some green shirts and jackets while she took Daryl to try on the jeans she’d picked out. Right now they were just trying to get him to express his style, but first, Daryl had to find it.

“Do you want me to wait outside the door?” she’d asked, but Daryl just shook his head and let her into the changing room.

He tried on every single pair of jeans she’d picked out. She knew he was on the thinner side, but some of them had been a bit too small. Out of the ones that fit, however, he leaned more towards the darker colored ones. He also prefered the looser ones, but they weren’t baggy. He liked to be able to move freely in them, but he didn’t like them super loose.

“I really liked the brown ones out on the rack,” he admitted timidly.

Michonne smiled and told him to wait there while she went and got some of them. She returned the ones that hadn’t worked out to the desk before venturing back out to the racks. She also grabbed a few black pairs to give him more options. His eye lit up when he saw them, his style was definitely beginning to show through now that he was being allowed to express what he likes. In the end he decided on two blue, three brown, and two black pairs. He’s originally only wanted one of each, but she’d stopped him.

“We’re buying a whole wardrobe for you so that you don’t have to wear any of your old stuff anymore. It’s all stained and doesn’t fit you right. Get every pair you like,” she’d assured him.

Just as they were trying on his last pair, Rick showed up with a cart full of shirts, jackets, underwear, pajamas, and socks. Shoes would have to come after they were done in the dressing room. Daryl’s mouth dropped at the sight of the cart practically overflowing with stuff. Unlike Michonne, he asked Rick to wait outside, still slightly uncomfortable with being vulnerable in his presence.

He stared small, picking out all black underwear in a few sizes so that he could find out which ones fit him at home since he couldn’t try them on in the store. He picked out a package of black socks, a collection of various shaded green socks, and some brown socks. He slipped back into a pair of his new jeans to try on the shirts. There were a ton of different styles of shirts to choose from and he tried on every single one. Michonne noticed he prefered the darker colored shirts, just like he did with the pants. He also didn’t like any characters on his shirts.   
“I just don’t know who they are,” he explained looking at himself in the mirror wearing an Iron Man t-shirt, “Who’s Iron Man?”

_ “Yep, that’s a problem they were going to have to fix soon,” _ Michonne thought to herself as she watched him place the shirt in the “no” pile.

He ended up with about 20 shirts in the “yes” pile and asked Rick to put the rest back. Most of the shirts were plain colors, but a few had various outdoors designs. His favorite shirt had been a black tank top with a white silhouette of a wolf howling at the moon on the front. Honestly, she was just happy he’d only picked out one camouflage t-shirt. His shirts did, however, have about the same color range as his sock. The only difference being a few dark blue shirts.

Next were the jackets, they were all light zip up hoodies since it’s not cold at night yet. He settled on light green and a black one with white angel wings on the back.

“Why the angel wings?” Michonne asked him curiously.

“They make me feel closer to my ma,” he said, “She used to call me her little angel before she died. It’s really my only memory of her. I’ve always wanted something like this to remember her by.”

Michonne smiled at his story and moved onto the pajamas. He ended up going with a few pairs of different colored sweatpants and some soft, plain t-shirts; all of which were within the same color scale as before with the exception of a pair of grey pants and a white shirt.

Once they were finished she told him to change back into Carl’s clothes so they could go look at shoes. Rick returned all of the unwanted clothing to the desk and waited patiently for Michonne and Daryl to exit the dressing room. It was nice to see Daryl’s personality start to shine through in his choices in clothing. So far, everything he’s picked is an earthy color that reminds Rick of a forest. There’s no denying that he’s an outdoors kid and his wardrobe finally reflects his deep love of nature. Rick wondered how many times Daryl had run off into the woods to escape his father, turning nature into his only safe haven.

After loading up the cart with all of Daryl’s new clothes, they made their way over to the shoe sections. Since Daryl didn’t know his size and the shoes he’d been wearing are too small, they had to measure his feet before they start looking. This time Daryl was more open about picking out things he liked without them being given to him first. He went immediately for a black and dark green pair of tennis shoes. They had a sturdy bottom and, much to Rick joy, were on sale. They ended up getting him two pairs of tennis shoes, the black and green ones and a pair of black and white ones, and a pair of brown hiking boots.

All that was left was a quick stop in the care aisle to pick out his toiletries, including a toothbrush, comb, and face wash.

“Is this everything?” he asked them as they made their way towards the checkout line.

“Yep, I think we’ve gotten you’ll need for a while. If we find out we missed something, we’ll just come back and get it later,” Rick said as he started loading items onto the conveyor belt.

On impulse, Michonne reached behind her and picked up a Reese’s candy bar for Daryl. Once it was paid for she handed it to him.

“What’s this?” he asked staring at the candy in his hand.

“It’s candy,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because you deserve to joy things like this. Consider this a welcome treat.”

Daryl opened it and removed the plastic cup from the outside of the treat. He looked at it strangely and she wondered if he’d even had one before. He cautiously took a bite and she smiled as she watched his reaction.   
“This is amazing!” he said before devouring the rest of the treat, “I had no idea peanut butter and chocolate tasted so good together.”

The comment was both adorable and heartbreaking for the adults. They were happy he loved it so much, but felt deep sadness that he’d been denied it his whole life. They both had a feeling there were a lot more firsts ahead of them with Daryl. Firsts they didn’t even think about being firsts, like getting candy from the checkout line at the store.

“Where to next, Rick?” Michonne asked her husband as they put all of Daryl’s new clothes into the back of the car.

“I think we need to go to Bed, Bath and Beyond next. They’ll have the biggest selections of stuff for his room.”

Michonne nodded and got into the car, once again blasting AC/DC from the stereo and laughing as Daryl attempted to sing along despite not knowing all the words. It took them a lot longer to get through the next store since Daryl wasn’t really able to grasp why they wanted him to change the look of the guest room.

“But what happens when someone comes to visit? They shouldn’t have to stay in a room that looks like me,” he protested.

“Hun, nobody besides you is ever going to be staying in that room again. We have another spare room on the first level of the house. It’s much smaller and farther away from us, but it’ll be good enough for any guests we might have. We don’t get people staying the night very often,” Michonne tried to reassure him.

“But still, it’s fine the way it is. You’ve already spent so much money on me today. I’m good, really.”

“Daryl, we want that room to be yours. It’s going to take us a few days before we can repaint it, but it’s your room and we want it to reflect you, just like how your new wardrobe does,” Rick added.

Daryl still looked apprehensive. Michonne looked up at the racks of comforters, she wanted to find something more rustic to fit Daryl’s love of nature. They’d already picked out a few sets of forest green sheets and pillow cases and the sheer curtains he’d picked to replace the white ones were also dark green, so she at least had an idea of a color scheme. She pulled a few down off the rack to look closer at. One was just plain black, not very exciting, but safe. Another was covered in white and green plaid. The last one was a dark green with the image of a line of white trees across the bottom reaching up about halfway with a moon hanging over them. She watched Daryl’s face closely as he looked at each one. His eyes caught on the third one.

“Do you like this one the best?” she asked pointing at the treeline on it.

Daryl nodded shyly at her.

“Then that’s the one we’ll get,” she beamed at him placing the other two back on the shelf.

They made their way over to a wall of carpeting and calmly coaxed him into telling them which one he liked best. He chose a nice dark green shag carpet since he also relented and said he’d paint the walls a light brown if he was allowed.

The decorations section was the hardest since he didn’t see them as necessary. They kept presenting him with outdoors themed items until he began to open up and tell them what he liked. They ended up with an hanging analog clock with the image of a deer drinking out of a lake on it, a wooden panel made up of several individual planks of wood with the image of a wolf painted on it, and a black wall hanger for him to put his crossbow on. While Rick was sure the original intent of the wall hanger was to hang a jacket on or something, Daryl seemed sure it would be able to hold his bow.

Overall, shopping with Daryl had been a success. He now had enough clothing that he didn’t have to wear the same clothes every day. His room was going to have some personality from the decorations and comforter. They had an appointment for that weekend to have someone come over and replace the carpet in the room and they’d picked out what color to paint his walls online. Now all Rick had to do was have the room painted before the new carpet was put in. Good thing he still had two days off since they’d come home early from vacation.

Once they got home, Daryl told them they could throw out all his old clothing since he didn’t need it anymore and changed into one of his new outfits. He looked so much better wearing clothes that matched who he is and fit him right. They could still see how malnourished he was, but it didn’t look quite as bad now that he was in clothing that fit him right.

They stripped the double bed of the old stuff and replaced it the items Daryl had picked out. They hung up all of his new clothes and debated on where they were going to hang the decorations they’d bought. The old curtains came down and the green ones went up, perfectly complimenting his new bedding. Soon the walls would be a nice, rustic brown and the carpet would be a nice rich, dark green. The room was looking more and more personalized to represent who Daryl was and they all loved the new changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If all goes to plan, Paul Rovia will be making his entrance in chapter 10! :D


	9. Arrangements

While Michonne went into the kitchen to start making dinner, Rick led Daryl back out into the garage to start sorting through his massive knife collection.  
“Why do you have so many knives?” Rick asked as he opened the box he’d put them in.

He’d already removed the gun and hidden it away inside his own gun lockbox in the basement of the house. Most of the stuff in there were memories from his life before and on the police force. He didn’t even own any ammo for any of them anymore. In there was the first gun he ever shot. The gun he trained to become a cop with. The gun he was using the day he was promoted to detective. He also had his father’s old hunting rifle in there. It didn’t work anymore, but he held onto it for sentimental reasons.

“Some I got from my Uncle Jesse before he went to jail. Some are gifts from my older brother. Some were my older brother’s that he stopped using, so I took them. The rest are ones I stole from my father after he threatened to use them on me once. He never bothered to go looking for them, so I just kept them hidden in there,” Daryl explained.  
Rick swallowed at that last one, but didn’t outright mention it, “Any of these hold any kind of sentimental value to you?”

“Sentimental?” he asked confused.

“Are they important to you because they remind you of someone?” Rick clarified.

“Oh. Not all of them are, but a few of them are special to me.”

Daryl reached into the box and pulled out a 12 inch bowie hunting knife with a brown, wooden handle. It was encased in a black sheath, but Rick could that it had been used before from the scuffing on the end of the handle.

“This was my brother’s. It’s the knife he taught me how to skin a deer with. I’d like to keep this one,” Daryl said unsheathing it and holding it up so that the clean metal glinted in the light.

Rick nodded, “Sure, just put it back in it’s sheath and place it in the green metal box beside you.”

Daryl did as he was told before reaching back into the box and producing a smaller folding knife. It was all black except for a thick ring of blue around the middle of the handle. Rick’s eyes widened a bit as he watched Daryl flick the blade open with ease. He’d obviously spent time perfecting the move.

“This was my mother’s knife,” Daryl revealed, wiping at his nose a bit, “It was outside the house when it went up in flames. It’s one of the few things I have left of her.”

He flicked it closed and placed it inside the box alongside the bowie knife from his brother.

The last knife he took out was a red and black butterfly knife. Rick once again watched as Daryl expertly unhooked the handles and swung the blade into position. This time he played with it a little longer showing off to Rick as he twirled it around and performed a bunch of complex motions with the blade. He was smiling the entire time as he did it before finally swinging it closed and locking it.

“This was the first knife I ever got. Merle gave it to me when I was six, the day before he started teaching me how to hunt. Where is my crossbow?” he asked looking up a Rick as he placed the knife inside the box.

“It’s still in the car. Once I get that hook up in your room I’ll take it out. Are these all the knives you want to keep?”

“Yeah, the rest are just random ones I got from people or hid from my father.”

Rick nodded and stood up from where he’d been kneeling. He replaced the lid on the box and lifted into the back of his car. He’d take all of them down to the local hunting store and get rid of them tomorrow morning. He took the bolts from next to the crossbow and placed them inside the box with the few knives Daryl wanted to keep. Rick then locked it and put it up on a shelf where Daryl couldn’t reach them.

“Will I ever get to use them?” Daryl asked.

Rick looked down at him, “Once you turn 13, I’ll take you over to the local shooting range and get you a hunting license. I don’t know much about hunting, but I’d be willing to take you someday.”

“At least I won’t have to wait too long since I’m 12 and my birthday’s in January and it’s already August.”

Rick blinked at the revelation. They hadn’t asked his age yet since by appearance he looked to be around Carl’s age, so like 9 or 10. He was much older than either of them had thought, which only made his malnourishment even more concerning.

“Yes, that is a good thing. I’ll have to look into getting some proper gear for your birthday then,” Rick said feigning that he hadn’t just been shocked by Daryl’s age.

They heard the garage door open and Michonne appeared calling them in for dinner. She’d made chicken and rice with a side of green beans for dinner. Daryl was getting better with how fast he ate, but he was still done way before he and Michonne were. Rick noticed Daryl yawning as they chatted about the day and the next step of painting his room the nice rustic brown color he’d selected.

Once they were finished cleaning up after dinner, they all changed into their pajamas and played games in the upstairs living room. It was only 9 pm, but Daryl was yawning constantly, so Michonne coaxed him into washing up and going to bed.

“Night Michonne, night Rick,” he whispered as he drifted off to sleep tucked snuggly in his new bedding, “thanks for everything.”

Michonne kissed his forehead and they both left the room, quietly shutting the door behind them.

“What a nice day, but what’s the damage to our finances?” Michonne smiled once they were back downstairs and out of earshot of Daryl.

“Well, we should probably avoid eating out the next few weeks and I’m going to put off buying a new car for a while, but it’s all worth it.”

Michonne hummed her approval and kissed her husband. She walked into the living room and sat down of the couch, patting the cushion next to her as an invite for Rick to join her. Rick sat down beside her and pulled her against his chest.

“Did you know Daryl’s twelve?” he asked out of the blue.

Her eyes shot open and she sat up, “Twelve? But he looks no older than Carl.”

“I know, that’s what concerns me. He’s been deprived of proper nutrition for so long that it’s stunted his growth.”

She wanted to throw up at the news, but there wasn’t anything they could do to fix the past. The only thing they can do is start feeding him properly and pray he can catch up.

“So, he’s not in 5th grade like we thought. He should be in 6th or 7th grade,” she realized, “The flies from his old school are due in the mail tomorrow. I called and checked on them this morning.”

“Yeah, it looks like he’s not going to have Carl to lean on when he starts school in a few weeks like we were hoping he would.”

“There has to be someone we know with a child his age who could help him with the transition,” Michonne whispered biting her lower lip in concentration.

They both sat there in silence trying to come up with someone who might be able to at least be a point of reference for Daryl. They knew his last school experience had been horrible and they wanted this time to go better.

“What about the Monroes down the street? They’ve got two young boys about Daryl’s age,” Rick suggested.

“Yeah, they have two boys, but they aren’t the nicest kids around. Especially their younger one, Spencer, who’s Daryl’s age. The kid’s mean and lazy. I don’t think they’d get along really well,” Michonne shot him down.

Rick had to agree with her though. He’d been called in on account of a hazing incident at their school and found out they were behind it. The only reason they got off easy is because their mother, Deanna, is a congresswoman.

“I know,” Michonne said eyes lighting up in triumph, “Carol and her husband Ezekiel adopted a boy last year after finding out Ezekiel can’t have children. I think he should be around Daryl’s age now. They have a younger daughter, Sophia, from Carol’s first marriage, too.”

“You mean Paul? The boy that’s always riding his skateboard past our house?” Rick asked.

“Yeah, since he’s adopted too, he might have an easier time connecting with Daryl.”

“I don’t know, they seem really different. Paul’s always wearing skinny jeans and brightly colored shirts and you saw what Daryl picked out today. You really think they could get along?”

“I do,” Michonne said firmly, “I’ll call Carol tomorrow and ask her if she’d be alright with letting Daryl meet Paul.”

“Speaking of Daryl meeting people, I need to call Lori and ask to come over tomorrow so that I can give Carl the news in person.”

“How do you think he’s going to take it?”

“I don’t know, but I’m more worried about Lori’s reaction to thinking about having Carl around Daryl when it’s our week with him.”

“I think the decision of whether or not he’s comfortable being around Daryl should be left up to Carl. We both know Daryl’s harmless, but Carl might be less open to suddenly having a full grown sibling from such a bad background.”

“I’m going to be completely honest with him. Hopefully knowing what we saved him from will help Carl understand why it happened so fast.”

* * *

Rick knocked on the door of his ex-wife’s house and was greeted by a very unhappy looking Lori. He wasn’t inside the door more than two feet when she started questioning his judgement.

“How could you bring a child like that into your home so quickly? Just think of all the problems he could have because of how he was raised,” she hissed at him.

“He needs us, Lori. I saw his living conditions and arrested his father. I couldn’t just throw him into the system like one might throw a dirty shoe in the garbage. I know it’s not going to be easy, but I do know it’s going to be worth it.”

“What about Carl? How could you choose to expose your own son to someone as dangerous as that?”

“He’s not dangerous, Lori. And if Carl doesn’t want to meet him, I’m not going to force him to. I’m leaving the decision up to him and you should too.”

“What are you going to tell him about where this boy came from?”

“I’m going to tell him the truth,” Rick stated firmly, already very tired of listening to his ex-wife bitch about the situation.

It wasn’t long before they heard Carl’s footsteps as he descended the stairs. Rick knew it couldn’t be Shane since the Lieutenant Colonel was currently deployed in Iraq.

“Morning Mom,” he said as he rounded the corner, stopping short upon seeing Rick standing there, “Dad? What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too,” Rick smiled at his son.

“Oh yeah, hi Dad,” Carl said and ran to give him a hug.

Rick softly patted him on his back as he let go and climbed up onto a chair on the island in the kitchen.

“So, why are you here?” he asked again.

“Well, I’ve got some rather big news to share with you...” Rick began leaning over on the counter.

“Is Michonne pregnant again?” he asked hopefully, eyes lighting up.

Rick remembered how devastated Carl had been when he’d told him they’d lost the baby. Carl had been really looking forward to having a younger sibling to play with. Rick wondered if he’d accept Daryl as a sibling despite him being the older of the two and not related to him in any way.

“No, we’ve decided to wait a bit before trying again,” Rick continued, carefully watching for Carl’s reaction, “but you do have a new brother.”

Carl’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “How can I have a new brother if Michonne isn’t going to have a baby?”

“Well, we’ve decided to adopt a boy.”

Carl’s eyes widened in shock, but he didn’t say a word. He just stared at Rick with his mouth hanging open.

Rick cleared his throat nervously, “His name is Daryl Dixon. Michonne found him outside in a storm near our cabin a few days ago. His father was abusing him, so we got his father locked up and we decided to take custody of Daryl.”

“Is... is he at home now?” Carl asked, his shock easing into concern for Daryl.

“Yeah, Michonne and I have an appointment to officially adopt him next week.”

Carl nodded slightly though it was still rather obvious how caught off guard he was.

“How old is he?” he asked.

“He’s twelve, but his birthday is in January.”

“What about his ma?”

“She died when he was a lot younger,” Rick supplied, wanting to answer Carl’s questions without destroying Daryl’s trust in him.

“Oh. You and Michonne are all he has?”

“Yep, we’re his family now. And he can be your step-brother if you want.”

Carl shifted slightly in his chair as he tried to process what he was being told. Having his Dad tell him Michonne was going to have a baby was one thing, but them showing up with a fully-grown kid out of the blue was something completely different. He’d always wanted a younger brother. Granted, he has a younger sister in Judith, but he wanted a brother to rough house and play soccer with.

He just sat there mulling the news over in his mind. Dad said his father had been abusing him, so it was good that they got him out of there. But why did they choose to take him in? He wasn’t really sure what to make of the news.

“What’s he like?” Carl finally spoke again.

“He likes playing board games with us. He’s really loves being out in nature. I think you two would really get along,” Rick answered.

“Can I meet him?”

“I was hoping you’d ask that,” Rick smiled at his son who is technically his younger son now, though still his first born; what a weird thing to think about.

“Rick,” Lori cut in, “I do not feel safe having Carl around that boy. Only god knows what...”

“Lori, Daryl isn’t dangerous. He’s a good kid,” Rick protested.

He really didn’t like that Lori was trying to turn Carl against Daryl before he even had a chance to meet him. Daryl was going to be his brother from now on, so he desperately needed them to get along.

“It’s not his fault his family was horrible,” Rick continued, “We’re giving him a second chance at life, something he might not get in the system. Michonne’s been there and done that. She couldn’t bear to condemn him to the same fate.”

“So you agreed to take a wild child into your home because your new wife thought is was better than giving him to people who know how to deal with mentally ill children.”

“Lori!” Rick was shocked by her behavior.

He’d expected some resistance, but not all out hate and intolerance.

She crossed her arms and turn to Carl instead, “I don’t want you around that boy until he’s met with a psychiatrist or something. He’s not safe...”

“Mom, you always assume the worst about people. You said the same things about my friend Mike from school just because he and his family just moved here from Kenya. I trust Dad,” Carl spoke up cutting Lori off mid-rant.

Rick raised his glared disapprovingly at his ex-wife. How dare she try to teach Carl that simply because someone is different that makes them dangerous. He wondered how much of her behavior she’d had all along and how much of it was inherited from Shane. Honestly though, Rick was just really glad Carl hadn’t taken to any of her views.

“So Dad, can I meet him?” Carl asked looking up at him hopefully.

Luckily, this time Lori kept her mouth shut having sensed that she was losing the argument.

“Let me call Michonne so that she can ask Daryl. He is still a little skittish and we don’t want to overwhelm him with too much change too quickly,” Rick said pulling his phone out of his back pocket.

He waited patiently for Michonne to pick up and smiled when she did.

“Hey, how’s it going?” came her voice over the phone.

“It went really well. Carl wants to know when he can meet him. Is Daryl up?”

“Yeah, let me ask him.”

Rick could just barely make out what Michonne was saying to Daryl as she’d moved the phone away from mouth to talk to him.

“Why don’t you bring Carl over for dinner?” she suggested, “I’ll make his favorite Mac and Cheese.”

“That sounds wonderful...” Rick started.

“Lori can come too if she wants, but only if she promises to keep her mouth under control. She might feel better if she’s here and meets him too.”

“I think it’s a bit too soon to ask her to do that,” Rick said looking at Lori with a meaningful glare, “I’ll bring Carl over for dinner in a few hours. I’ve got some errands to run until then.”

“Meeting with the school board about his records?”

“Yeah, we need to determine his grade level and if he needs a tutor to get back up to speed or not.”

“Okay, love you,” she said blowing him a kiss over the phone.

“Love you, too. See you when I get home,” Rick answered before hanging up.

He turned his attention back to Carl, “How would you like to come over for Mac and Cheese and games tonight? You can meet him then.”

“Okay!” Carl beamed bouncing around in his chair out of excitement.

Rick chuckled and hugged him goodbye before taking his leave promising to be by to pick him up around 5 pm.

* * *

Michonne put the phone down on the counter and finished scooping some stew into a bowl for Daryl. They’d had a lazy morning watching some more essential movies, they’d watched a few the night before while playing games, and showing him how to make scrambled eggs. Even after just a short period of time with them, she could see the improvement in him. He wasn’t quite so pale anymore and his ribs were slowly becoming less noticeable.

Daryl liked his lips subconsciously as she placed the bowl down in front of him and then served herself. He waited until she was ready to eat before digging in. He slurped at the broth making quite the noise. It was spending she hoped would fall away in time after observing her and Rick at the table. He was already eating slower and enjoying his food more now that he wasn’t worried they were going to take it away from him.

“What was your favorite movie?” Michonne asked.

“I don’t know. The one with the little green guy was cool.”

“You mean Yoda?”

“Yeah. Iron Man was awesome, too. I wish I was that smart,” Daryl sighed poking at a piece of chicken in his bowl.

“Who says you’re not?”

“My Dad. He always loved to remind me how stupid I am.”

Michonne immediately reached her hand out to caress Daryl’s downturned face and made him look at her.

“Daryl, you are not stupid. Forget whatever your father told you. He was just a mean, old drunk who didn’t love you the way you deserve to be loved,” she said firmly, “You are amazing.”

The look on his face told her he really didn’t believe what she’d said, but he smiled at her anyway. Teaching him that he was not stupid wasn’t going to be an overnight fix. That way of thinking has probably been ingrained in him since he was very young, so it will take a long time to break that mindset.

“So, you know that Carl is coming over this afternoon to meet you, but now that we know you’re supposed to be entering 7th grade and not 5th, he isn’t going to be able to be a point of contact with you in your new school. Even if you were in different grades it might’ve worked, but in our district the classes are divided between buildings in between 5th and 6th grade.”

“Point of contact?” Daryl didn’t understand what that was.

“Someone who you can go to if you need something or start feeling overwhelmed. I know your old school was a rough experience and we don’t this next year to be the same. Rick and I were hoping to get you into some of Carl’s classes, but you two aren’t in the same grade.”

“Why did you think we were in the same grade?”

“Because you’re roughly the same height. I mean, you fit all of his clothes just fine.”

“But if I can’t have classes with him, what do you want me to do?” he asked confused by the whole conversation, “Honestly, I think I can take care of myself.”

“And we’re not doubting that,” she was quick to assure him, “We just don’t want you to feel alone there. This town is very different from your old one. For starters this school is roughly four times the size of your old one.”

His eyes widened in shock. He couldn’t believe there were that many kids his age attending one school. He used to this his old school was big, but apparently that assessment was very wrong.

“What do you suggest I do? I’d rather not repeat 5th grade.”

“Well, that’s what I want to talk to you about,” she cleared her throat nervously, not knowing how he was going to react to her suggestion.

“There’s a family a few streets over have a son our age. His name is Paul Rovia. We can ask for him to be your kind of ‘guide’ as you settle into your new school.”

“Why him?”

“I thought he might be a good match because he’s adopted, too. He’ll be able to understand what you’re going through a little better than some of the other students.”

“Why would he want to show the new kid around?” Daryl knew that befriending the new kid wasn’t exactly the best move to make for one’s social status in school; especially if the new person’s a Dixon.

“I called and asked him if he’d be open to it and he said yes, but it’s up to you if you want to meet him. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to,” she made sure that last bit was very clear.

Meeting a lot of new people is one of the hardest things of moving to an area so different from what you’re used to. You don’t know how to act, what’s appropriate, nothing. If she’s not careful, her efforts to socialize him with kids his age who weren’t going to shout abuse at him could backfire and make things worse.

Michonne continued after not receiving a response, “I’ve met him a few times and we see him skateboarding up and down the street all the time. He’s kind, definitely an introvert, but he’s genuinely interested in helping you. He knows first hand how hard it can be to settle in at a new school.”

“Okay, I’d like to meet him,” Daryl agreed, but then started panicking slightly, “When? Tonight?”

“Oh no, he’s not free until Friday. He’s very involved at the local karate dojo in town during the summer. Plus, I wanted to give you a little while longer to get used to this new place and process meeting your new brother.”

Daryl looked over at her apprehensively, “Is Carl expecting me to call him brother right away?”

Her hand flew to grasp his lying on the table, “No, he isn’t. There is no pressure on you to see us as anything, ever. We just want you to know that you’re loved here. Understand?”

Daryl nodded and lifted the bowl to his lips to slurp up the rest of the broth.

“Good?” she asked him.

“Yeah,” Daryl smiled at her, “Can we watch some more movies?”

“Sure. Want to continue our Marvel Universe marathon?”

“Yes! What’s next?”

“I believe the first Thor movie is next.”

“The big buff guy with the shaggy blonde hair?”

“Yeah, though I personally prefer his brother.”

“Why? He’s not the hero, right?” Daryl questioned as he opened up the disk casing.

“Maybe not, but I find him a more complex and so more interesting character than the hero.”

“Cool,” Daryl shrugged handing the DVD over to Michonne for her to load into the player.

They then walked over and reclined on the couch. Daryl curled up against her, resting his head on her chest as the opening credits began rolling.

* * *

It wasn’t long before the door opened and in came Rick followed by Carl. Michonne heard the door open and Rick yell out “we’re home,” from upstairs. She and Daryl had finished Iron Man 3 no more than ten minutes ago. Daryl had wanted to keep on watching, but she made him go upstairs and get changed out of his pajamas. She reminded him that Carl was coming soon and that he should look presentable. He hadn’t really understood what was wrong with his current outfit, but did as she said.

Michonne exited her room having finally changed herself only to see that Daryl hadn’t exited his room yet.

She knocked lightly on the door, “Daryl? You okay in there?”

“What if he hates me?” came the quiet response.

She could hear him sniffling through the door. She slowly pushed the door open and was greeted with the sight of Daryl, all dressed and ready to go, huddled in a ball on the floor. The boy looked absolutely terrified out of his mind.

“Daryl, there is no doubt in my mind that he’s going to like you. You’re awesome,” she tried to comfort him.

“How can you be sure? How do you know that he’ll be able to accept me? I’m just some stranger that’s busted into his life, worn his stuff, and stolen his parents.”

She knelt down beside him, “You did not steal us. We chose you, we want you. You are our son now, just as much as Carl is Rick’s son and my step-son.”

“What if I offend him? What if I do something wrong and he hates me for it? What if...?” he was starting to hyperventilate.

Michonne pulled him into her chest and held him, “Breathe with me. In... out... in... out... nice and slow. Everything is going to be fine. I’ll be there with you the whole time. I promise.”

Daryl’s breathing started to even out and slow as he listened to her kind words whispered in his ear. He pulled away from her, “You really think he’s not going to hate me like everyone else does? Except you and Rick, of course.”

“I really think you’re going to like each other. Carl likes playing outside, too. Now, he doesn’t hunt, but he does like swimming in the lake at the local park. I remember you saying you liked to swim in a creek out back at your old house, right?”

Daryl nodded against her chest, his arms still wrapped tight around her neck.

“Maybe you can use your shared love of nature as a conversation starter,” she suggested.

Daryl smiled weakly up at her, his stomach still turning over and over in fear of Carl’s judgement and potential hatred of him. He took a deep breath and let go of Michonne. He cautiously made his way out of his room to go meet Carl, Michonne following close behind. He slowly made his way down the stairs as he heard a young boy’s voice drift through the air to him.

“Where are they?” came the voice.

“They’re probably just finished getting dressed,” Rick replied, “Michonne’s taken it upon herself to show him the entire MCU. We started last night and they continued it today.”

Daryl stopped just before he was in sight of them making Michonne almost run into him. He slipped back behind her and motioned for her to go first. She took his hand and calmly led him out into the living room.

There was a young boy, slightly younger than himself sitting next to Rick on the couch. He had brown hair and bright blue eyes. He looked to be about his height and was wearing worn jeans and a blue t-shirt with white strips running horizontally across his shirt.

The boy, Carl, locked eyes with him immediately. He got off the couch and made his way over to him. Daryl had to fight the urge to run back up to his new room and hide.

He swallowed hard out of nervousness when Carl got close and extended his hand in greeting, “Hi, I’m Carl, Rick’s son. What’s your name?”


	10. Mario Kart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I decided to dedicate an entire chapter to Daryl meeting Carl, but his meeting with Paul is just around the corner.

“Hi, I’m Carl, Rick’s son. What’s your name?”

Daryl heard the question, but he couldn’t make his mouth work. Here was this boy, completely oblivious to everything he’s endured, ignorant of the disdain his name should bring when spoken aloud, asking him his name. He was sure he already knew and was only asking to be polite, but saying his name out loud for the first time in front of someone close to his age was terrifying.

He stared at Carl like he was going to suddenly burst out laughing and call him horrible names like so many of his peers have done in the past. He’s has friends turn on him as soon as they discovered who he was and who his family was.

He swallowed hard and whispered, “Daryl,” but didn’t take Carl’s hand, too scared he’d pull him out from behind Michonne—his safe place at the moment.

“Nice to meet you,” Carl smiled at him dropping his hand, but not appearing offended at all, “I heard you like playing board games.”

Daryl nodded, still partly hiding behind Michonne’s leg.

“Have you ever played video games?” he asked, obviously trying to strike up a conversation.

Rick and Michonne just waited and watched, not wanting to interfere with this first meeting. It’s a critical point of contact for Daryl as he learns the people they introduce him to here won’t reject or hurt him like his old peers did.

“No, never could afford that stuff,” Daryl spoke softly, his face slowly inching out from behind Michonne as his curiosity and trust grew.

“Well, I’ve got an Xbox upstairs if you’re interested in trying them,” Carl suggested, “Do you like car racing?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve got a few racing games that are really fun.”

Carl could tell Daryl was interested, but was still too scared to voice it.

“Come on,” Carl prompted, “I’ll let you drive whichever one you want.”

Daryl glanced up at Michonne and was reassured by her encouraging gaze. Carl walked towards him, but Daryl flinched back at the sudden advancement from him. Carl stopped moving immediately and looked up at Michonne unsure of how to proceed. Noticing that she was needed to intervene to keep the meeting flowing smoothly, she took both of their hands and led them up the stairs.

Her actions comforted Daryl since he wasn’t ready to be left alone with Carl, he didn’t trust him enough yet. He could hear Rick following behind them and he could feel his breathing starting to slow down. It had spend up when Carl walked towards him. Though he knew he was only going for the stairs, but his brain had subconsciously processed the sudden movement as a threat and reacted accordingly. He was slightly embarrassed by his reaction because he didn’t want Carl to treat him like glass.

Once they were upstairs, Carl went to boot up the gaming system and pulled out four shiny black controllers with a bunch of buttons on them. He pulled out all the racing games he owned and held them up for Daryl to see.

“Which one looks the most interesting?” Carl asked him, offering him a choice of which game they were going to play.

“Uh...,” Daryl wasn’t sure which one to pick since he’d never played video games before, “which one’s the easiest?”

“Probably Mario Kart. I love this one,” he said excitedly as he put the rest of the games away.

Daryl watched as he slipped the disk into the machine and turned the TV screen on. A bunch of icons appeared on the screen and Carl picked up one of the controllers and used it to maneuver on the screen. The cover image of Mario Kart popped up on the screen and some real annoying pop music started to play from the speakers.

While Carl set up the game, Michonne grabbed herself and Daryl some controllers and started explaining how to use it to him. He listened intently as she explained how to accelerate, decelerate, and control where the car goes. The controller fit well into his hands, but it felt weird holding it because he’d only ever seen them before.

“Ready?” came Carl voice.

Daryl looked over and noticed Carl was sitting cross legged on the floor in front of the couch. Daryl cautiously walked over and got on the couch wanting to be close to him, but not too close. Michonne sat down next to him on his right and Rick was already lounging on the other couch to his left.

“Yeah,” Daryl said nervously.

Carl climbed up on the couch next to him, but stayed on the other side of it sensing Daryl’s need for distance at the moment. Daryl reaction to how close he got downstairs told him Daryl didn’t trust him enough yet to let him get as close as Michonne and Rick. It was a bit frustrating, but Carl refused to let himself give into it wanting to have a good relationship with Daryl. Daryl shifted a bit closer to Michonne at his move, but didn’t flinch away this time like he had earlier.

“Awesome, first we’ve got to pick our characters. Which one do you like? My favorite’s Koopa Troopa,” Carl said selecting his character from the menu and smiling at the noise Koopa made.

“I like the dinosaur looking one.”

“Yoshi? Yeah, he’s good too. I used to play him all the time.”

Daryl struggled a bit to figure out which joystick to move to select the character, but with Michonne’s help he got it. The noise Yoshi made when he clicked on him was strange, but not unpleasant. Michonne chose Princess Peach and Rick chose Bowser, according to Carl.

Next it was time to choose a car. Daryl quickly noticed they weren’t all cars, some were bikes. Daryl immediately chose one of the bikes since he’d always liked bikes better. Carl chose a car, as did Rick. Only Michonne joined him in choosing a bike.

They all chose to be on the same team, red, and Daryl felt better knowing that they’d all be working together instead of a free-for-all. Carl chose the first course assuring Daryl that it was an easy circle track. It appeared to go around in the same of an egg and had something to do with his character.

Carl gave him a few more tips about the track before pressing play. The three beeps played and then they were off. Daryl hit the accelerator and watched as some of the other characters shot out in front of him including Carl. He absentmindedly wondered how he did that, but he was more focused on not falling off the track at the moment. The game was super fast paced and exciting. Daryl could feel adrenaline, good adrenaline, unlike what he would feel when running away from his father’s belt, flooding his system as they raced. He wasn’t as good as the others, but he wasn’t last either. He was beating a good number of the CPUs which, because this is his first time, he felt good about.

The race went on, three times around the track they went. They then repeated the process three more time, each track more challenging than the last as if Carl was slowly trying to build him up to his level. Daryl was just glad he’d never come in last. He’d come close a couple times, but never dead last.

Carl cheered when all the points were added up to show that they’d won, “Yeah!”

Carl didn’t think about it, he just held his hand up high for a high five, a bright smile across his face, but Daryl absolutely freaked out. He yelped and shoved himself back against Michonne as if he was trying to crawl away from him. Carl’s smile dropped immediately at the reaction. Michonne quickly wrapped her arms around Daryl in a protective hold, dropping her controller onto her lap.

Carl was really confused by what had just happened. He couldn’t understand what he’d done wrong. Then he felt his Dad’s hand around his wrist slowly bringing it back down to his side. Guilt and regret pooled in his stomach. He’d totally forgotten about Daryl’s past.

He didn’t know much about it, but his Dad had told him Daryl was being abused by his father. That’s when it clicked, Daryl had thought he was going to hit him. The sick feeling in his stomach only grew as he realized what he’d done. Daryl was shaking in Michonne’s arms as she tried to comfort him and reassure him.

“Daryl?” Carl whispered gently.

The boy didn’t respond, he just buried himself deeper into Michonne’s side.

“Daryl,” he tried again, “I would never hit you. You’re family now.”

Daryl still didn’t say anything, but Carl could see some of the tension leaving his form as he clutched at Michonne’s shirt.

“Rick,” Michonne said, “Why don’t you and Carl go get dinner started? It’s almost 6pm. I was going to go do it now, but I don’t think I’m going to able to move for a while.”

Rick nodded and ushered Carl downstairs and into the kitchen leaving Michonne behind to calm and comfort Daryl.

“Dad, you know I didn’t mean to do that, right? I wasn’t thinking that a high five might do that,” Carl was distraught over what had just happened.

Carl started crying as Rick knelt down and pulled him into his chest, “It’s okay, I know. We just have to be more careful about what we do with our hands around Daryl.”

“In what ways?”

“Well, you shouldn’t raise your hands like that. I make a conscious effort to keep my hands away from my belt at all times when I’m around him. It’s small things that we don’t even think about that can trigger his memories. It’s going to take some time and we’re all going to mess up at some point, but we’ll get it. And he’ll get better the more he learns to trust us.”

Carl nodded against his Dad’s chest before pulling away and wiping his face with his shirt.

“Ready to start grating some cheese?” Rick said in an attempt to both change the subject and lighten the mood.

“Yeah,” Carl smiles up at Rick, but he could tell his son was still deeply troubled by what he just saw.

“Wait,” Rick stopped him, “You know you can ask me anything, right? I’m not going to get mad at you wanting to understand what’s going on.”

Carl looked up at his Dad, “Why? How? Why would a parent do something so horrible to their kid that it makes them terrified of normal movements?”

“I don’t know, Carl. Some people just aren’t meant to be parents. But Daryl’s safe now; he’s here with us. We’re going to show him he’s got nothing to be afraid of from us.”

Carl seemed a bit more satisfied, but still a bit shell-shocked.

Rick stood and walked over to the fridge, “Gouda or white cheddar?”

“Both?” Carl offered.

“Sounds good to me,” Rick pulling out the grater from the cupboard, “Come over here and help me.”

Carl threw him a half-smile before climbing up onto one of the island’s bar stools.

* * *

The hand raising above his head, soon to be followed by a harsh slap across the face. Then he’d be ripped apart by the buckle of his father’s belt as he cried out, but not for help. He’d given up crying for help a long time ago. Now he only cried because of the pain.

But the inevitable slap of pain didn’t come. His father’s voice wasn’t booming above him. Instead he felt a soft touch caress his upper body and a kind, feminine voice whispering words he couldn’t quite make out above the buzzing in his head.

He thought he heard another voice, but again, he couldn’t make out the words. It was a boy’s voice and he wondered briefly how his brother had gotten out of jail. The more he thought about it though, he realized it wasn’t his brother’s voice. It was too light and soft, too kind.

The buzzing in his head began to fade as he started to believe that the pain wasn’t coming this time. That he’d somehow escaped a beating, just this once. He cracked open his eyes and was surprised to find the arms holding him weren’t white, so it wasn’t his ma.

_Who is holding me right now?_

That’s when everything started coming back to him. Rick, Michonne, Carl, all of it. He wasn’t at his shitty home, he was here, safe with his new family. He felt his breathing even out, the tears stopped, and his heart stopped pounding in his chest. His fear was slowly being replaced by embarrassment as he remembered what caused him to retreat into himself. He wasn’t sure what Carl wanted to do with his raised hand, but he didn’t believe the boy was going to hit him.

“Michonne?” he croaked, his throat a bit dry.

“Yes?” she whispered rocking him back and forth lightly.

“Could I have some water, please?”

“Of course. Think you’re okay to go downstairs? I can hear dinner being made.”

Daryl nodded and used the sleeve of his t-shirt to wipe the tear tracks off his face. She let him out of her arms and he followed her downstairs. Carl couldn’t meet his eyes, the boy looked so incredibly guilt ridden about triggering his past. Carl wanted to jump off his stool and run and hug him, but he was afraid to considering his reactions so far.

“I’m really sorry,” Carl swallowed hard, “I didn’t even think...”

“I’m fine, Carl. Really,” Daryl assured him climbing onto the stool on the opposite end of the island.

“You know I’d never do that right?”

Daryl nodded, “Yeah, I do. Just triggered a bad memory is all. Wasn’t your fault.”

Carl still looked upset about it, but Daryl didn’t know how else to reassure him that he’s fine.

So instead, Daryl changed the topic, “You think after dinner we could play some more Mario Kart?”

Carl’s eyes lit up and he smiled slightly at the request, “Yeah, that would be fun.”

“I’m going to beat you at that game one of these days,” Daryl challenged smirking as Rick placed the finished Mac and Cheese down in front of him.

Carl’s jaw dropped at his remark before he came back with, “Not if I have anything to say about it!”

The air was still tense and Carl kept his arms by his sides for the rest of the night, but otherwise it was a nice evening of Mac and Cheese and Mario Kart.

* * *

When it was dessert time, Carl asked passionately for ice cream and Rick couldn’t deny his son’s adorable begging puppy dog eyes. They went down to the fridge and Rick got them each out a bowl and put a nice portion of Brownie Batter ice cream into each one.

Carl noticed Daryl just kind of staring at it in his bowl, “What’s wrong, Daryl?”

“Nothing,” he said quietly, “I’ve just never had ice cream before. Could never afford it.”

Carl couldn’t believe his ears, how could someone not have tried ice cream before, “Well, what are you waiting for? Try some.”

“It’s just...” he tried.

“It’s just what?” Carl prompted him.

Both Rick and Michonne were also shocked that Daryl had never even had ice cream. The kid must’ve lived off only what he could hunt and what was served at school.

“It’s just, I’ve wanted to try it for so long. I’ve longed to try it for a while. When I had to watch all the other kids enjoying it on a hot summer day was the worst. I’ve dreamed about this for so long, what if I’m disappointed?”

“Trust me,” Carl assured him, “You won’t be. This is my favorite flavor and there are about a million.”

Daryl nodded and scooped some up onto his spoon and took a bite. They were all watched and waited for his reaction.

“Holy fuck, this stuff is awesome!” he announced and they all burst out laughing, not caring about the F-bomb he’d just dropped.

Daryl smiled wide as he continued to enjoy his dessert with his new family.


	11. Paul Rovia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who’s finally here!!! :D

It felt like no time at all before Friday rolled around and Daryl was up in his room staring at his closet unsure how to proceed. He knew some boy named Paul was going to be coming over to meet him soon and would be his guide in school for a while. He knew very little about him. He knew he was adopted, he knew he loved karate, skateboarding, and music. Basically, he had no idea how to approach this new person, someone he would be spending an inordinate amount of time with for the foreseeable future. It was much easier when he met Carl because he’d heard a lot about him beforehand from Rick and Michonne.

The incident they had on the couch during Mario Kart still bothered him and he was scared it might happen again at school. It wouldn’t be the first time that a sudden loud noise echoing down the hallway of the school building had sent him into a panic and forced him to seek refuge in the bathroom until he could catch his breath. He once had a teacher who liked to slam his ruler down his students’ desks whenever he felt they weren’t paying attention. It had only happened to him once, the day after a rather severe beating from his father, but he’d passed out from fear and exhaustion right there in the classroom.

Daryl swallowed hard at the memories and did his best to push them from his mind as he finally settled on a plain blue t-shirt and black jeans. He pulled on his black and white sneakers, made a quick check of his appearance in the mirror and then made his way downstairs. Rick had gone back to work today as requested by his boss, but Michonne had decided to call off until school starts. It was only another week, but he was thankful not to be left alone in the house just yet. The fear his father would break out of jail and come after his still all too real.

“Morning Michonne,” Daryl called as he leaned on the rounded post at the end of the stairs and gracefully swung himself off the stairs and onto the wood flooring.

“Good morning, Daryl,” she smiled looking up from her laptop.

She may not have physically gone back to work, but she still had things she needed to do for her clients even if she wasn’t actually in court with them. She was also focused on processing Daryl’s adoption paperwork and making him, by law, rightfully theirs. She’d just gotten off the phone with Daryl’s new school and they’d come to the conclusion that they needed to have him take a few tests to really discover where he was in his schooling. Apparently he’d missed so much school over the past couple years, they couldn’t really determine if he belonged in 6th or 7th grade. Even if he was in 6th grade, Paul would still be able to be there for him since they’d be in the same school building anyway.

Daryl made his way over to the cupboard and pulled out his new favorite cereal,  _ Frosted Flakes _ . He was used to old, dry cereal if he had any breakfast at all, so really any cereal here was an improvement, but he really liked  _ Frosted Flakes _ . He poured himself a nice serving and went to sit down next to Michonne at the table.

“You ready to meet Paul?” Michonne spoke up trying to gauge how he was feeling about the upcoming meeting.

“I don’t know,” he responded munching on his breakfast, “I’m just nervous he’s not going to like me.”

Michonne mentally sighed as she listened to Daryl talk. He was so insecure about himself as a person because of all the times his father had beaten into him that he was worthless. She desperately wished she could just reach into his mind and fix it, but since she’s not a magician, she’s just have to teach him gradually how special he is.

“Well, whatever happens I’m here for you. Okay?”

Daryl nodded and thanked her as he continued to enjoy his breakfast.

“So,” she started, unsure how he was going to respond to needing to be tested, “I talked on the phone with an advisor from your new school today.”

“Okay?” Daryl was confused on why she was hesitating.

“They’d like you to come in next week for a few tests to determine your grade level.”   
“Why? I know I’m in 7th grade.”

“You were at your old school, but they want to make the transition as smooth as possible. They’re concerned that your large number of absences might mean you’d be better off retaking 6th grade.”   
Daryl stopped eating and just looked at her with a more guarded persona than she’d seen for a while, “Are they trying to say I’m not smart enough to keep up with my peers?”

Michonne knew she needed to proceed carefully from this point on, “No! They just believe that you may transition smoother by retaking 6th grade. They’re worried that because of your unusual amount of absences that you aren’t ready for 7th grade yet.”

Daryl frowned at her, his mask fully in place, “What about your plan for Paul to be my guide?”

“He’s still be your guide, you two just wouldn’t be in the same classes. He’d still be a contact for you in the school, but not in the same way.”

“I’m in 7th grade,” he insisted, “I don’t want to be stuck in school any longer than I have to be.”

“Daryl...”

“No! I hate school, I always have. The only good that place ever did for me was offer me a break from my father for six hours everyday. The teachers knew what was going on at my home, but they didn’t care.”

“But this is a new school and these teachers are different...”   
“How can you possibly know that?”

Michonne stopped and just looked him in the eyes, “You’re right, I don’t know. But you’re not in trouble anymore.”   
“What if another student is? What am I supposed to do if it’s obvious and nobody cares?” Daryl was starting to cry now.   
Michonne leaned over in her chair and pulled him into a hug, “Then you tell me or Rick so that he can look into it. We’ll listen to you, I promise.”

“How can people not care?” he whimpered.

“I don’t know, Daryl. I really don’t.”

“I’m in 7th grade,” he whispered rubbing his wet eyes against her shoulder.   
“Okay,” she hushed him softly, “I hear you. I’ll let the school know.”

“Thank you,” he said pulling back and wiping at his eyes.

“Would you be open to Paul also being your tutor if you need help?”

Daryl nodded and Michonne felt a wave of relief fall over her when he relented.

“I’d rather need help and be in the right grade than have to spend an extra year in school,” Daryl admitted.

She still wasn’t convinced this was the right course of action, but fighting against him on it wasn’t a battle worth having right now. If he thought he could make it, she believed him and she knew telling him otherwise would only have a negative affect on him. She’d have to ask Paul if he was willing to be Daryl’s tutor, should the need arise, later.

She let him finish his breakfast in peace, not wanting to upset him any more before Paul’s arrival.

* * *

It was around 3 pm when Paul finally arrived at the Grimes’ home. He’d been down at the dojo all morning training for his upcoming blue belt test. He was so excited for it and couldn’t wait to move on from being a green belt. Right now, however, he could feel his nervousness mounting as he rang the doorbell and waited for Mrs. Grimes to come to the door. At least, he assumed it was going to be her and not Daryl.

He used his hand to brush his long hair behind his ear. It hung just down past his shoulders now after a full year of letting it grow out. His hair had been longer when he was a child, but the head of the group home he’d been living in last year had required he cut it. The group home had strictly banned long hair on boys since, according to their statistics or something, it lowered his chances of being adopted. He’d been told it made him look “too feminine” and that nobody wanted a pansy for a son.

He had chosen to forgo his normal colorful attire today in anticipation of meeting Daryl. He’d been told about Daryl’s likes and dislikes by Michonne so that he didn’t accidentally trigger him like her step-son accidentally had. He didn’t know Daryl’s background specifically but, based on his previous experience with kids from abused homes and on how quickly the move was made, he suspected some kind of abuse had been going on and prompting him to take multiple precautions.  So, he went with a muted long green t-shirt and his favorite pair of ripped black jeans. He also didn’t wear a belt, unsure of how Daryl might react to them. Normally he would’ve tied his hair back as well, but his hair was still a bit damp from his shower earlier.

The door opened and he was greeted by Michonne standing in the doorway smiling down at him, “Hi Paul, where’s Carol? Or Ezekiel?”

Paul knew he was a bit young to be standing there without parental supervision, but Carol had been called away by her job at the hospital an hour ago and Ezekiel was busy with Sophia. He’d been with them for just over a year now, but he was pretty sure he’d never feel comfortable calling them mom or dad considering how horrible his original parents had been. Needless to say, his relationship with the words was rather negative and he didn’t like using them to refer to people he loved.

“She got called away with an emergency at work. She said to apologize for having to send me on my own,” he explained, “And Ezekiel is busy with Sophia tonight, she has a dance concert starting at 5.”

“Oh, okay. Come on in,” she made to move away from the door.

“Wait,” he stopped her, “Is there anything I should avoid doing or saying before I meet him?”

“Um, just don’t raise your hands or make any sudden movements towards him.”

“Got it,” he said finally accepting her invitation to enter. 

He was immediately stunned by the number of swords hanging on the walls, but his attention quickly shifted from the house to the boy watching TV in the living room. Upon hearing the door shut he stood up and walked around the couch so that Paul could see him fully. Paul blinked a bit at his image. His was quite small for his age and Paul noticed some lingering signs of prolonged malnutrition. He’d become familiar with spotting the symptoms from his time in the group home.

Paul slowly made his way across the space between them. He noticed Daryl shuffle back a few steps as he got closer, but he didn’t appear ready to bolt, more just extremely nervous.

Paul came to a stop about five feet in front of him and held out his hand, “Hi Daryl, I’m Paul. It’s nice to meet you.”

Daryl hesitated before closing the distance between them and taking Paul’s hand, shaking it lightly, “Nice to meet you, too.”

Daryl’s hands were sweaty and he gripped his hand too hard, giving away just how nervous he was to Paul. Paul briefly wondered if he was the first person his age that Daryl had met since moving. After their hands parted Daryl immediately started fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. When Daryl realized it, however, he stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

“So,” Paul spoke up feeling the awkwardness in the room, “looking forward to school?”

“No,” came Daryl’s immediate reply.

“Why not?” Paul mused at how quickly and sharply Daryl had responded.

“Not my scene. I prefer to spend my time doing what I like.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

Daryl shrugged, “Hiking, hunting, just being in nature.”

“Cool, you hunt?” Paul asked him not believing he’d heard Daryl right.

“Yeah. I can hit a squirrel between the eyes up to 15 feet away if I have a clear sight line.”

Paul’s jaw dropped. This guy wasn’t just okay, he was a fucking pro. The idea that someone his age was already wielding long range weapons and was good enough to actually put those skills to use was shocking. Sure, he knew karate and there are kids as young as five and six taking classes, but someone knowing how to shoot at an expert level already was insane.

“Wow. You must be really good.”

Daryl just shrugged and ducked his head a bit in shyness at the compliment.

“Mind if I ask why school ‘isn’t your scene?’” Paul said bringing the conversation back to the reason he was here in the first place.

“Just a bunch of assholes pretending they’re important and shoving anybody else out of their way for fun,” Daryl explained a bit, “I’ve never enjoyed going to school. It was really only a place to hide out for a few hours.”

That last sentence caught his attention. The words “hide out” indicates that despite his dislike of the place, it had become a sort of makeshift safe haven for him. However, if a place he hates was a safe place, his home life must’ve been hell on earth. Paul knew that from experience having spent many days hiding out in shady places until he had no choice but to return home.

“Hide out?” Paul pushed ever so slightly.

Paul saw tension bleed into Daryl’s face as soon as he spoke and he immediately backtracked.

“You know what,” he said, “it’s none of my business.”

“Damn right it’s not,” Daryl mumbled under his breath.

Paul looked around the room for something to break the sudden tension and his eyes landed on the large collection of games in the corner.

“You like playing games?” Paul asked pointing at the pile of board games.

Daryl turned to look where Paul was pointing, “Yeah, I do. But what’s that got to do with anything related to school?”

“Well, if I’m going to be your guide for the upcoming school year, we should at least get to know each other. I figured playing a game might help break the ice.”

Daryl nodded chewing on his bottom lip, “Sure. Which one you want to play?”

“Doesn’t matter to me, why don’t you pick?”

Daryl threw him a strange look before making his way over to the games and pulling out monopoly.

Paul smiled, he was good at this game; maybe he’d finally have a challenge when it comes to winning. Something tells him that there’s more to Daryl than meets the eye, especially when it comes to intelligence and strategy.

* * *

It turns out that Paul was exactly right. Daryl might not act like it, but the guy was extremely intelligent when it comes to strategy. He also noticed that Daryl could easily do the math as the banker in his head. It was amazing to watch him do these things and know that he didn’t think of himself as smart. He even wondered if he’d end up asking Daryl to be  _ his _ math tutor.

They were pretty much tied with both of them unable to complete more than two sets and they were refusing to trade.

“Come on, dude,” Paul groaned, “Give me park place in exchange for the one green card you still need.”

“No fucking way. I can see how much money you have over there,” Daryl said gesturing towards his impressive stack of 100 dollar bills, “One round and you’ll clean me out.”

“Hey now, you’ve got just as much money as me. Plus, you’ve already got hotels on yellow and pink...”

“And you’ve got hotels on red and orange.”

Paul stuck his tongue out at him in response. He was determined to keep his monopoly winning streak going from all the times he’d beaten Carol and Ezekiel, but Daryl was not letting him.

“Well, I can give you park place...” Daryl began.

“Yeah? For what?” Paul was extremely skeptical of this offer considering how hard it’s been to get him to even consider parting with it.

“I’ll give you park place, if you give me all of your incomplete sets,” he finished smirking.

Paul scoffed, “No fucking way. Never.”

“Suit yourself,” Daryl said laughing lightly under his breath.

They continued to play, neck and neck with each other. Paul finally got Daryl to trade him his two light blue cards and one brown card for his one green card. He wasn’t entirely sure that was a good move, but they’d been at gridlock for almost 20 minutes now and Daryl is far more stubborn and patient than he is. Without wasting a moment, they both put hotels up on their new sets. They’re both still trying to entice the other into giving up their dark blue card.

It took another hour for the game to end with Daryl’s strategic use of buying up all the cards Paul usually considered useless. He was going to have to look closer at Daryl’s strategy later, because right now he was busy pretending to be grumpy about losing his crown to Daryl in one go.

“Seriously dude, how did you beat me? I’ve never seen anyone win by buying the railroads and electrical companies first,” Paul grumbled, but he was more curious than truly grumpy.

“It’s how my brother Merle taught me to play. He always said the cards people think are the least useful usually turn out to be what kills them in the end,” Daryl revealed as they started cleaning up the game.

“Interesting, I’m going to have to try that sometime.”

“And I’ll still kick your ass,” Daryl smirked.

Paul raised his eyebrow at him, “Is that a challenge?”

Daryl shrugged as he put the box away, “Depends. You down?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Paul said more than ready to accept the challenge, “I won’t rest until I’ve taken back my crown as  _ Monopoly Champion.” _

“Boys! Dinner is ready,” they heard Michonne call out to them from the kitchen.

They both got up from the floor and made their way into the kitchen. Paul inhaled deeply as the scent of freshly smoked salmon filled his senses. He hadn’t had fish in a long time since Sophia’s mildly allergic to fish. She can be around, she just can’t eat it. So, after Carol found out, she stopped making seafood almost entirely so that Sophia wouldn’t feel left out at dinner time.

“Smells amazing, Michonne,” Paul complimented as he sat down at the table next to Daryl.

“Well thank you,” she said smiling as she brought over two plates of food.

It was smoked salmon with a horseradish-mayo sauce with a side salad full of cucumbers, tomatoes, and feta cheese. Paul licked his lips and, as soon as Michonne had served herself and sat down, dug into his meal. The salmon practically melted in his mouth and the sauce was amazing. Daryl seemed to be enjoying just as much as he was.

“Where’s Rick,” Daryl asked Michonne about halfway through his meal.

“He had to stay at work late tonight because of all the time he took off so suddenly. He’s got a few cases he’s got to catch up on.”

Daryl nodded, it was still hard to believe sometimes that he’d gone from hating cops to being the adoptive son of one.

“So,” Michonne cleared her throat, “how have you two been getting along?”

“Really good,” Paul spoke up, “I’m looking forward to spending time with Daryl at school.”

“Yeah, Paul’s cool,” Daryl added, “I still can’t believe school starts in just a little over a week.”

“Same. Feels like just yesterday I was riding my skateboard home from school on my last day of 6th grade.”

“Feels like just yesterday I was still back in my shitty hometown trying to hide from the rain under the overhang of an abandoned bar.”

Paul really wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he was glad when Michonne spoke up instead.

“It does feel like just yesterday that I found you. Everything happened so fast I still wake up sometimes expecting you to be a figment if my imagination.”

“Well, I’m really glad you’re real,” Paul said.

He was about to reach out and lay his hand on Daryl’s shoulder, but he caught himself before he did. They’d been having such a fun time and he didn’t want to ruin it by accidentally triggering Daryl’s past. He was thankful for the tiny glimpse into it no matter how brief or saddening. If he was going to protect him at school, he needed to know Daryl’s triggers.

Paul cleared his throat nervously, “Speaking of school, is there anything you’re worried about?”

Daryl was caught off guard by the sudden question and felt about a thousand ways his first day of school could go wrong at once. He thought about how sometimes he’s triggered by people yelling in the hallway, or running past him, or even just trying to give him a hug or a high five like Carl had. He thought about the many, many fights he’d been apart of when people had pissed him off. He didn’t want to tell Paul about any of that though because he didn’t want to ruin this friendship before it even had a chance to begin.

“Um, I guess I’m just worried that this new school will be the same as my old one. Filled with a bunch of self worshiping assholes who hate me because of my family.”

Paul frowned softly at Daryl’s admission, “Well, it is a school and people are jerks, but not all of them are. My friends Aaron and Eric are really nice. They were the first people to befriend me when I moved here. I’m sure they’d love to meet you.”

Daryl shrugged not convinced that two people his age could be so openly accepting of new people, especially someone like him. He desperately wanted it to be true, but he’d been hurt too many times to be able to believe he’d be so lucky to find three great friends. Honestly, if Paul was all he ever had, he thinks he’d be okay with that.


	12. Orientation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for brief use of homophobic language.

Daryl shifted uncomfortably in the padded wooden chair he was sitting on. Paul was sitting on  his right and Michonne on his left. They were currently in the office of one of his new school’s guidance counselor. He needed to be placed in as many of Paul’s classes as possible based on his grades previously. He was worried that they won’t be in many classes together because Paul might be in the honors classes and Daryl wasn’t confident that he could get into those.

Daryl knew he liked hanging out with Paul and appreciated their shared a history of having a shitty first family, he didn’t entirely know what to think of him. His long hair was strange and it looked even weirder to see it pulled back into a bun. He was wearing a gray shirt with the words “Panic! At the Disco” on it. Daryl wasn’t sure what it was referring to and was confused at why someone would be panicking at a disco.

Below the words was a triangle with a circle on it and on each point of the triangle there was a smaller circle. It was colored with a rainbow and had an exclamation point in the middle of the triangle. Daryl opened his mouth to ask about it when someone entered the room.

“Good morning,” a woman’s voice came from behind them.

Michonne stood and turned to shake hands with the woman.

“Hi Mrs. Williams, I’m Michonne and this is my son, Daryl.”

“Good morning, ma’am,” Daryl said also shaking the woman, Mrs. William’s, hand.

She smiled down at him, “It’s nice to meet you both and please, call me Sasha.”

She looked past him to Paul, “Hi Paul, nice to see you again.”

“Nice to see you, too,” Paul replied smiling back at her.

Sasha made her way around the desk and sat down across from them. Michonne and Daryl also sat back down so that they were facing her.

“So, you’re looking to enroll in courses with Paul?” Sasha asked turning on her computer.

“Yes, ma’am,” Daryl confirmed.

“Is there any particular reason why?”

Michonne jumped in at that one, “Yes, we just want him to have someone he knows nearby. Considering his background, I feel more comfortable knowing someone I trust is with him.”

Daryl wanted to protest that he could take care of himself, but flashes of when he had a panic attack with Carl and at his previous school kept him quiet.

“I see,” Sasha scrolled through the student files until she came to Paul’s, “It looks like Paul is in three honors classes this year. Based on his past grades, I’m not sure Daryl would do well in those.”

Daryl swallows hard, it’s exactly what he had feared. Of course, a lot of his bad grades was a mixture of missing class because he was in too much pain to move and his father using his homework fire fuel when he couldn’t pay the electricity bill. Daryl also knew he wasn’t super smart, so his normal C and D range was to be expected.

“How many courses will he have with Paul if he’s not in those classes?” Michonne asked Sasha.

“Well, he’ll have at most five classes with him. I can also make sure they’re in the same lunch period, if you want.”

“That would be great, thank you. What courses would Daryl be taking if we copied Paul’s schedule exactly except for the honors classes?”

“Paul has pre-algebra as his 1st period class followed by honors language arts, honors science, gym, lunch, honors social studies, visual arts, choir, and finally Spanish 1.”

Daryl listens to the list carefully to decide if he’d like Paul’s courses. His stomach flipped when he heard Spanish 1 because he once saw his brother yell at someone to “speak English since they’re in America.” Daryl hadn’t known what to do except wait until his brother was done yelling at the terrified woman. He hadn’t liked it and he honestly thought she was entitled to speak in whatever language she wanted to. His brother would not be happy to know he was going to be learning Spanish.

“Do all of those classes sound okay to you?” Michonne asked him.

Daryl nodded. He wasn’t sure about the choir and the art ones, but he figured he’d be okay as long as Paul was with him.

“Awesome,” Sasha said tapping away on her on her computer, “That was easy.”

“Is it possible to get a list of supplies he’s going to need?” Michonne asked her.

“I can print off the syllabi for his classes. They might have some of the supplies he’ll need listed on them.”

“Thank you.”

Sasha got up and walked over to the printer in the other room as it made a ton of weird noises and spit out what Daryl assumed was his schedule. She brought it in and handed it to him before turning to Paul.

“Paul, why don’t you and Daryl go take a tour of the school and find your classrooms?” Sasha suggested.

Paul knew she was trying to get them out of the room so that Michonne and her could talk privately, but he didn’t care. He understood there might be some things they needed to cover that could possibly piss of Daryl. Paul had been required to have weekly meetings with the other guidance counselor, Bob Stookey, for a long time after his initial arrival just to make sure he was adjusting okay. He assumed Daryl would be required to do the same thing and if Sasha was going to be dealing with him, she needed know about his past.

“Come on Daryl, I already know where most of these are,” Paul said getting up from his chair and heading for the door.

Daryl followed slowly behind him, looking back to check if it was okay with Michonne if he left. He only went through the door after receiving a nod of encouragement from her.

* * *

“So,” Sasha started, “as I told you on the phone, we require all transfer students to meet with me or the other guidance counselor for the first semester of their enrollment here.”

“Yes, I would like for him to meet with you, if possible, since he already knows you from today,” Michonne replied.

“I’m good with that. In order to do that, I need to know exactly why he was taken away from his past family. You are not, however, required by law to tell me details of anything, only basic information for the safety of Daryl and his peers.”

“I understand and I am comfortable with telling you since you’re sworn to secrecy by law. I found Daryl outside in a storm about a week ago. His father had thrown him out of the house in a fit of drunken rage earlier that day. I offered him shelter and so, he came back with me to the cabin Rick and I were staying in. It wasn’t long before we started noticing signs of severe abuse and by day two we were dealing with infected wounds on his back. I had a doctor friend of mine come and treat him at the cabin while Rick tracked down his father and arrested him. We got the conviction and Daryl was given into our custody. He’s been home with us for about three days now.”

Sasha took her time in processing the information Michonne had just dumped on her. From the sounds of it, she was dealing with a child who’d experienced extreme physical and mental abuse by his father. This was going to be a difficult transition for Daryl.

“Is he sensitive to loud noise or sudden movement?” Sasha asked.

“Yes, he had a panic attack just the other day when my step-son went to give him a high-five and Daryl flashed back to his father raising his hand to him. He also doesn’t like yelling and flinches at sudden loud noises.”

“In that case, I’m starting to think gym is a bad idea for him.”

Michonne faltered in her thought process, she hadn’t thought of that. There was normally loud noise and sudden movements in gym class. She didn’t like that his past was keeping him from being a normal kid who enjoys playing kickball and capture the flag, but she values her 

She bit her bottom lip in thought, “What can he take instead?”

“I can put him in our wildlife course. It’s a new program we’re trying out to get kids to be more interested in interacting with the outdoors,” Sasha offered.

  
“Daryl doesn’t need any help connecting with the outdoors, but I’m sure he’ll enjoy the class anyway. That sounds like a better option until he’s more used to the idea that nobody is going to hurt him here.”

Sasha nodded in agreement, “Yeah, I think it would be best to lower the chances of him being triggered by removing him from gym.”

* * *

Daryl and Paul wandered down the big halls of his new school. Paul pointed out their mascot as they passed the school’s main entrance. It was a light blue wolf wearing a black and dark blue basketball jersey.

“That’s Willie the Wolf,” Paul explained as they passed by him.

  
Daryl was in awe of how big the school was with so many hallways criss-crossing each other he was sure he was going to get lost on his first day. Paul told him funny stories about the school as he showed him where his classes were. Paul’s phone dinged in his pocket and he pulled it out to see a message from Michonne. They hadn’t been able to get Daryl a phone yet, but since he’d never had one he wasn’t really desperate for one.

“Michonne says that out of concern for you they’ve decided to remove you from gym class and have placed you in some new wildlife class instead,” Paul said as he read the text.

  
“Why would they do that?” Daryl asked confused.

“Maybe they’re worried the loud noises and chances of you being hit by things is too high. I think they’re worried being in gym will trigger you.”

“Oh,” Daryl mumbled.

He hates feeling like he’s being babied, but he guessed he could understand where they were coming from. He’d been triggered in gym class before, but had just pretended to be hurt and was able to sit out the rest of the class. It hadn’t happened often, but he figured they didn’t want it to happen at all.

“Where’s that one located?” Daryl asked him.

“She says it’s room L25 which is back the way we came.”

“Okay.”

Paul could tell Daryl felt ashamed that he had to be removed from gym class because of his past, possibly a little angry. Paul walked silently beside Daryl as he debated about how to proceed. He knew they’d made sure he had no female teachers for his first semester out of concern for him, so he knew how frustrating it could be to feel held back or babied because of their past.

“Are you okay?” Paul asked as he reached out to stop Daryl from walking.

Daryl flinched at the contact which made Paul slightly regretful of doing that.

“Yeah, why?” Daryl snapped defensively.

Paul kept his temper in check as he responded, “I just noticed you seemed a bit pissed because Michonne and Sasha removed you from gym out of fear of triggering something from your past.”

“I can take care of myself,” Daryl grumbled as he turned to keep walking, but Paul got in his way.

“Hey, I know what it feels like to be restricted because of my past. I couldn’t take certain courses either when I first came to this school.”

Daryl just glared at him, not saying anything and waiting for his to elaborate if he wanted to.

“I wanted to take visual art last year, but I couldn’t handle being in the same room as the teacher for an extended period of time. They removed me from the class after I passed out when my teacher bent down next to me to look at what I was drawing.”

Daryl was confused at how one teacher could cause that severe of a reaction, but not others.

“Why did you freak out around that one teacher?” Daryl asked.

Paul swallowed uncomfortably and scuffed his shoes against the floor lightly as he decided how to answer Daryl’s question since he wasn’t exactly ready to bare his soul to him.

“The teacher was female and she looked like my mother,” he explained briefly.

Daryl could see the tension in his body and backed off. He didn’t like it when people stuck their nose into his business, so it wasn’t his right to shove his own nose into Paul’s business.

“Hey, I’m sorry. It’s none of my business...,” Daryl started.

“It’s fine,” Paul cut him off and brushing the whole conversation aside.

They continued onto Daryl’s new classroom as Paul slipped back into his carefree persona, something Daryl was starting to notice was just a mask and not really him. Daryl laughed with Paul as he told a story about a kid in 8th grade last year who stole a lunch tray and tried to surf it down the stairs. The kid was okay, but the tray had been shattered by the time he reached the bottom of the staircase. His favorite stories, however, were the ones about Paul and his friends. With every story Paul told, Daryl started looking forward to meeting Aaron and Eric more and more.

“There is a group of people you need to watch out for,” Paul warned him on their way back to the guidance counselor office.

Daryl looked at him questioningly, “Who?”

“Negan and his gang of assholes.”

Daryl just looked at him confused.

Paul noticed and continued explaining, “They like to bully the new kids and anyone who doesn’t conform to their demands. They’re the school bullies. All the teachers know, but they can’t touch them because Negan’s father pays a lot of money to the school district.”

“Ah, bunch of rich assholes who think they run the world, right?”

“Basically,” Paul agreed, “They think the own this place and a lot of the students let them get away with it. It works like this, if you have something and Negan or one of his followers want it, they get it. They gave me a black eye last year when I refused to give up my lunch to one of them because they forgot theirs at home.”

“I thought you knew karate? Why didn’t you just give them a black eye back right back?”

Paul chuckled at Daryl’s response, “Oh believe me, I did. The guy just got the jump on me at first because I was holding my lunch. He sucker-punched me and then I gave him, Simon, two black eyes and a cracked rib. I got after-school detention for a week because it was self-defense while Simon was given a week of in-school suspension.”

  
“Damn, nice job,” Daryl smiled at him.

“Yeah, it sure felt awesome at the time, but now I’m pretty much public enemy number one. They do everything they can to terrorize me, but they really haven’t had that much of an effect on me. They’re too scared to challenge me physically, so they’ve resorted to calling me a ‘fag’ or something along those lines instead.”

Daryl stopped short, “Why would they call you that?”

Paul started to sense that he may have made a mistake. He didn’t know the exact views he’d grown up with, but considering what he did know about his past home life, positivity towards being gay probably wasn’t included.

“They call me names like that because I’m one of the only gay people out at this school.”

Daryl didn’t respond, he just nodded as he processed this new information. He’d long lost count of the number of times that his brother had used the idea that someone might be gay to degrade them.

He’d grown up learning that gay people were wrong and gross, but Paul was defying every stereotype he’d ever been presented with. He wasn’t weak; he’d taken on Negan and his gang and won. He wasn’t super feminine; only his longer hair kind of is, but it really didn’t bother him. Overall, he acted like a normal guy, he just happens to like boys instead of girls.

Paul tried to be patient and not jump to conclusions as he waited for Daryl to say something. His were constantly fidgeting with each other and he couldn’t stop biting his lower lip. He prayed that Daryl was just caught off guard and not uncomfortable or disgusted by him being gay.

Daryl finally came to a decision and spoke, “Those guys are a bunch of assholes. I don’t give a shit who you like. It’s not my business anyway.”

Paul breathed out a sigh of relief he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

“Cool,” he smiled at Daryl before they continued on their way back to Michonne and Sasha.

Daryl wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of being friends with a gay guy, but he was just so happy to have a nice friend he didn’t really care. Merle probably would’ve flipped his lid if he found out he’d befriended a gay guy, but he couldn’t find it in himself to give a shit. So many aspects of his life were changing at the moment that he decided to reserve his judgement for later, after he got to know Paul even better because, so far, Merle’s been wrong about everything he’s ever told him about gay people.


	13. School’s In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, but my life has been a nuthouse the past week or so. That combined with some mild writer’s block resulted in a very late update. Hopefully I’ve been able to break through my little bought of writer’s block and the next chapter will be written and on it’s way soon.
> 
> Enjoy!

Daryl paced nervously up in his room. Today is his first day at his new school. While he is looking forward to spending time with Paul and meeting his friends, he’s worried about how the rest of the school is going to receive him. He already knows he’s going to have trouble with Negan simply because he’s new and friends with Paul, but it’s the people who aren’t predisposed to like or hate him he’s really worried about.

The people around him are always the ones he’s had the most trouble with. He’d dealt with bullies at his old school when they made fun of him because his father was the town drunk and he had only like four shirts to rotate between. He hadn’t handled it with grace, but he’d handled it--usually in the form of a fight that landed them both in detention. He hates that he has this tendency to let anger cloud his judgement because in the aftermath, every time, he feels like his father. He didn’t want Paul to see that awful, violence side of him. Hopefully he’ll be able to control that side of himself around Negan for Paul’s sake.

Daryl shook himself back to the present, he had five minutes to pull on his shoes and grab his new backpack. His backpack was a dark green color with a silhouette of the forest across it. The whole process of shopping for school supplies was strange to him. He used to get his supplies by asking the teacher if they had a spare pencil. Everything else he had to just go without unless it was provided by the teacher. Sometimes students would be nice and share their stuff with him, but not very often. He fell into the habit of stealing pencils, pens, and even markers one at a time when nobody was looking and keeping them.

“Daryl! You ready for school?” came Rick’s voice from outside his room.

He still jumped at the noise, but he was getting more used to hearing Rick’s voice and not jumping out of his skin out of fear. Loud male voices weren’t his favorite, but he knew Rick wasn’t really trying to be loud. He has one of those voices that just had volume, almost authoritative; it probably happens because he’s a cop.

“Yeah,” Daryl called back pulling on his shoes quickly and tying them.

He grabbed his backpack and left his room. Rick had to take him to school today since Michonne had to go back to work today. One of her clients had a trial date set for nine AM this morning making it impossible for her to get there on time and take him to school. He reached the bottom of the stairs and did what was becoming a strong habit for him, using the end post to swing off the stairs into the hallway, before walking into the kitchen.

Rick was standing next to the door fully dressed in his detective uniform with the keys to the car hanging from his hand. Part of Daryl wanted to run back up into his room and hide, but the other half of his was excited to see Paul. He swallowed hard and followed Rick out the door. The ride was quiet despite Rick’s attempts to start up a conversation; Daryl was just too nervous to talk. They pulled up to the school and Daryl couldn’t get his feet to move from the floor of the car or make his hand open the door.

“Daryl? You okay?” Rick asked him leaning on the steering wheel and putting the car in park.

Daryl swallowed hard as he looked out the window. His desire to hide under the seat of the car growing by the second.

“Daryl?” Rick gently touched his shoulder to get him to look at him.

Daryl looked up at him, his fear and nervousness evident in his eyes. Rick honestly really didn’t know what to do. Carl had always loved school so he’d never had to deal with this.

“What’s wrong?” Rick tried.

“I’m not sure. I just can’t get my hands to move,” he whispered.

“I think you’re just nervous, but you’ve got nothing to worry about,” Rick attempted to reassure him, “Paul’s inside waiting for you.”

Daryl dropped his gaze to his lap, “How do you know he won’t turn his back on me?”

Rick sighed out of sadness for Daryl’s complete lack of confidence and self-worth, “Because I’ve seen you and him interact. Paul genuinely likes hanging out with you. I could tell just by the way he interacts with you. He’s not helping you just because we asked him to. He’s doing it because he wants to.”

Daryl nodded slightly, obviously hearing what he was saying but not believing any of it. Rick looked up at the school building, scanning the incoming students for any sign of Paul. He finally caught sight of him leaning against the outside of the school watching their car. Rick held up his hand in an attempt to get Paul’s attention and, to his surprise, Paul saw him and waved back.

“Look Daryl,” Rick encouraged, “There’s Paul right now waiting for you.”

Daryl turned in his seat and caught sight of Paul. He smiled when he saw Paul wave and smile at him from where he stood. Daryl smiled back and returned the wave. He felt his nervousness dissipating somewhat as he grasped the door handle.

“Have a good day,” Rick called out to him as Daryl climbed out of the car.

“Later Rick!” he shouted back as he made his way over to Paul.

Rick smiled as he watched Paul welcome Daryl to his new school and lead him inside.

* * *

Paul watched Daryl approach with a smile alight on his lips. He could see just how nervous and uncomfortable Daryl was with his new surroundings. He kept his head down and his shoulders forward, trying to squeeze through the crowd in front of him without anyone noticing him. His eyes, however, remained locked on Paul as if he was some beacon of light he was following. Paul realized that he probably was some kind of anchor for Daryl in his new environment.

One of the students backed up suddenly into Daryl’s space and he jumped, flinching away from the person. He didn’t react to it though, he just kept on walking, faster this time. He looked a little freaked out, but otherwise he was fine. He came to a stop in front of Paul and breathed out a sigh of relief.

“You okay?” Paul asked uncrossing his arms and leaning forward to get off the wall.

“Yeah, just not used to being around so many people,” he responded tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

The poor guy looked ready to bolt back home and honestly, Paul couldn’t blame him. He’d been just as overwhelmed when he first arrived at the school, but it was worse for him because he hadn’t had anyone to guide him.

It took him a good month before he really started talking to people. Aaron was the first person he connected with and they’ve been fast friends ever since. Aaron was also gay, but he wasn’t out to anyone except Paul from fear of his religious family finding out and throwing him out onto the streets.

Eric came a bit later, Aaron introduced them since Paul didn’t have any classes with him. Eric is actually the only other gay guy out at the school, so they both dealt with Negan’s bigotry. Basically, Daryl was about to unknowingly walk into a tiny gay club since none of them really had any other friends.

He briefly wondered if Daryl would bring any new friends into their mix, but quickly dismissed the idea. Daryl was struggling to understand Paul’s interest in hanging out with him, let alone a complete stranger. If Daryl was going to add anyone to their group, it wasn’t going to be for a long while.

Paul glanced at the time on his phone. They still had about 20 minutes before the first bell, so another 30 minutes before their first class officially started. Paul asked Rick to bring Daryl early so he could introduce him to Aaron and Eric.

“You ready to go inside?” Paul asked him cautiously, he didn’t want to push him.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Paul nodded and led them inside. The hallways weren’t too bad yet since most of the students were still outside talking. Paul had contacted Aaron and Eric a few days ago and asked them to meet him in their normal hangout in the courtyard. As they approached the glass doors leading into the yard, Paul could see them sitting at a picnic table talking and laughing.

“Are those them?” Daryl said motioning at them.

“Yeah, the one with brown hair is Aaron and the other one is Eric.”

He’d told Daryl yesterday that he’d invited his friends to meet him. He’d been hesitant at first, but came around soon enough after Paul repeatedly assured him they weren’t going to hate him.

Paul led Daryl into the courtyard and the two boys sitting at the table stood up to greet them.

“Aaron, Eric, I’d like you to meet Daryl,” Paul introduced them.

“Hi Daryl,” Eric jumped right it with his characteristic welcoming personality, “I’m Eric. It’s so nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Daryl responded struggling to look Eric in the eyes, the newfound attention difficult for him to adjust to.

“And I’m Aaron,” Aaron said as he held his hand out for Daryl to take.

Daryl stared at the offered hand before cautiously reaching out and taking it. It was a brief handshake, but it was definitely a step in the right direction from when Paul had first met him.

Aaron smiled when Daryl took his hand.

“Come join us,” Eric said as he walked back over to his seat and sat down.

The rest of the group followed him, Daryl sticking to Paul’s side the entire time. They sat down next to each other and Aaron watched in fascinating as Daryl actually shifted a bit closer to Paul. It was like Paul was his comforting force in the midst of this very nerve wracking experience. Aaron wondered when the last time Daryl had been in a group conversation with people his own age. Correction, in a group conversation with people who wanted him to be there.

“So Daryl, tell us a bit about yourself. Paul’s refused to tell us anything except the basics,” Eric started.

Daryl looked at him in confusion and almost fear, “What basics?”

“You know, your name, who you’re living with, grade level, age,” Eric listed off, “Nothing too deep.”

“Oh,” Daryl mentally let out a sigh of relief that Paul hadn’t told them what little he knew about his past, “What kind of stuff do you want to know?”

Daryl wasn’t ready to tell them about his father and why he’d been removed from his care.

Aaron spoke up, “Favorite hobby? I love taking pictures, especially of nature.”

“Cool,” Daryl gave him a half-smile, “I like being out in nature. Hiking, fishing, hunting...”

“Hunting?” Eric cut him off in disbelief, “You can hunt?”

“Ever since I was strong enough to hold a crossbow.”

Eric’s mouth dropped open and Aaron’s eyes widened at the reveal.

“You can shoot a crossbow?” Aarón asked, clearly impressed.

“Yeah, most of the kills I’ve made were with my crossbow.”

“Wow,” Aaron breathed in awe before continuing louder, “That’s amazing. You’ll have to show me how good you are at that sometime.”

Daryl could feel his face heating up at the praise, something he wasn’t used to. He found he liked the positive attention, he just wasn’t sure how to react to it now that he had it.

“Uh, yeah. Won’t be until I turn 13, though,” Daryl explained, “Rick won’t let me shoot around people until I have an official license.”

“Why not?” Paul spoke up for the first time.

“Because the arrows have got to end up somewhere and he likes his fence without holes in it.”

The group laughed a bit at the comment.

“What? He can’t build you a target?” Aaron suggested confused.

“He could and I did ask him too, but right now Child Protective Services are in touch a lot and giving someone my age a weapon is technically child endangerment according to them,” Daryl explained, “CPS said I’m too mentally unstable to be trusted with such a deadly weapon.”

“Seriously?” Paul said in disbelief.

“Yeah, it’s complete bullshit. I may not be the friendliest person in the world, but I’d never shoot anybody.”

“Exactly how good are you?” Aaron questioned wanting to steer the conversation back to lighter topics.

“I can shoot a rabbit between the eyes from over 20 feet away when the conditions are right.”

“Damn,” Aaron whispered staring at Daryl, his mouth dropping open again in shock.

“When do you turn 13?” Eric asked.

“January 9th.”

“That’s not too far away. You’ll be shooting again before you know it.”

“I hope so.”

A loud bell rang throughout the school causing Daryl to jump. His old school didn’t have bells, the teachers decided when you were late to class and dismissed class on their own.

“It was nice meeting you Daryl, but we’ve got to go. Our classes are on the other side of the building,” Aaron spoke after the bell stopped ringing.

“It was nice meeting you guys, too,” Daryl said waving goodbye to the two as they headed for the door.

They both called out a goodbye to Paul as they made their way out of the courtyard and into the building.

“You ready to go to class?” Paul asked turning to Daryl.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Daryl answered, nervously picking at the hem of his shirt.

“To pre-algebra we go!” Paul cheered in a fake tone of excitement.

“Don’t like math?” Daryl smirked at Paul complete and utter lack of enthusiasm.

“I fucking hate it; it’s the worst invention ever. It was fine until some dumbass decided to include the alphabet in it,” Paul grumbled as they made their way to class.

Daryl laughed at his comments and Paul grinned upon hearing the sound. He’d begun to hear it more and more often as time past. He figured it was a combination of him, Rick, Michonne and Carl that was bringing the real Daryl out of the shell his father shoved him into.

“I actually like math,” Daryl revealed, “It’s simple. There’s one right answer, nothing’s left up to interpretation. I hate writing because there’s never one right answer.”

“I love writing!” Paul smiles at him, “Each person's individual take on the meaning of words is fascinating.”

“Sure, but I prefer having the correct answer.”

“And I like leaving some things up to interpretation.”

They two debated which was better, math or writing, the rest of their way to class. The two stepped in the door and Daryl stopped short when he felt Paul’s presence leave his side. He turned back to see Paul standing in the doorway staring at someone.

“Paul, what is it?” Daryl asked, sensing the immediate change in his friend.

“It’s Negan. He’s in this class.”


	14. Meeting Negan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I’m back again. I really gotta map this shit out. I know where I’m going, it’s just the inbetween stuff leading up to it that’s giving me a headache.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> WARNING! Bullying ahead.

Daryl tried to follow Paul’s line of sight, but he couldn’t tell which one was Negan having never met him before. Paul looked shaken a bit, like he hadn’t planned on seeing Negan just yet. One of the students looked up and saw them standing there. Paul immediately started moving away and towards some seats as the guy made his way over. Daryl quickly followed Paul taking the seat on his left. The boy came around the front of the table and leaned down on it.

“What do you want, Negan?” Paul said thinly veiling his disgust.

“Well that’s no way to treat an old friend,” Negan sneered.

Negan was wearing a cheap faux leather jacket with lots of buckles handing off of it. His jeans were plain grey to go with his plain white t-shirt. Around his neck hung a necklace with a metal charm on it that looked like a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire. His hair was slicked back like some Greece musical wannabe. He looked like he’d missed the bus to the local punk rock concert. Daryl was immediately not impressed by this new character.

“We’re not friends,” Paul snapped at him.

Paul really wasn’t in the mood to deal with this asshole. He wanted to just spend some quality time with Daryl before class started.

Negan grinned, “And who is this newbie?”

Paul tensed as Negan’s gaze shifted from him to Daryl.

“Daryl Dixon,” he responded calmly.

“Name’s Negan and I kinda run things around here,” he smirked.

“Don’t give a shit.”

Negan didn’t scare him. He’s been beaten within an inch of his life by his father, some knock off bad guy wasn’t going to do anything to him. Negan could hear Daryl’s indifference and it pissed him off.

“Now you listen to me,” Negan hissed, “You’re new here so I’m going to let that one slide. Things here are different from your old school. The way it works here is that all your shit, is now my shit. I get what I want and you can keep what I allow you to have.”

“Touch anything that belongs to me or my friends and you’re going to find yourself flat on your ass,” Daryl challenged him, “You have no real power here.”

Negan’s nostrils flared at Daryl’s response.

“My father is a huge contributor to this school. All I have to do is say the word and he can get you expelled.”

“Oh, so your daddy has to do all your dirty work? Too scared to do it yourself?” Daryl taunted.

“You’re going to regret talking to me like this,” Negan growled.

“Sure, let me know once you’ve talked to Daddy about the favor you need from him.”

Negan was ready to jump over the table and start a fight, wanting to make Daryl put his actions where his mouth was. But just as he began to raise his fist, the teacher walked in. Negan quickly slammed into his innocent school boy persona. He glared at Daryl and then at Paul before making his way back over to his chair.

“What an asshole,” Daryl said to Paul once Negan had left.

“I know, but I’ve found it best to leave him be. He’s annoying, but he can’t touch me without ending up in the hospital and he knows it,” Paul shrugged it off.

“But it’s not nothing. He calls you those horrible names. Don’t they hurt you?”

Paul looked over at Daryl, “Yeah, they do. But I’ve learned to ignore it. Eventually he’ll get bored of it and stop.”

“No he won’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because my father never got tired of beating me even though it almost always ending in the same way, me on the floor unconscious. He did it over and over for the thrill of the one percent of the time I fought back because it meant he was getting to me. He liked knowing he was hurting me.”

Paul swallowed hard not knowing what to say.

“He’s not going to stop, Paul. Do you really think you can handle this all the way through high school? We’re in middle school right now.”

“I don’t have a choice,” Paul whispered, “I have to live with it. His father will never agree to expel his own son because some gay kid’s feeling are hurt.”

Daryl could tell Paul had already thought about putting Negan in his place but decided it wouldn’t be worth it. So, he decided to drop the subject.

Paul knew he couldn’t afford to be expelled because he might have to leave Carol and Ezekiel to attend a different school district and he loved being their son. He’d been bounced around so much he couldn’t bare the thought of going through it again and at the same time forcing two good people to lose their son.

“Good morning class and welcome to your first day of 7th grade!” the teacher welcomed them.

“My name is Mrs. Rhee and I’m very excited to be back here with you all. I recognize some of you, but there are plenty of new faces here today.”

Daryl took note immediately that she looked honestly happy to be here. Most of his old teachers hated their jobs and were only there to collect their paychecks, which might be a reason why none of them cared enough to help him.

The class when by smoothly. He’d been terrified of being forced to get up and introduce himself like some of the new arrivals at his old school had been. This was their pre-algebra class and he was actually enjoying it. Mrs. Rhee is an amazing teacher. Daryl noticed Paul struggling a bit to understand a few of the concepts and willing reached over to help him. Paul thanked him for his help and promised to make it up to him in another course, preferably English.

On their way to Daryl’s next class, someone came around the corner and checked Paul hard with his shoulder. Paul gasped out in pain as the two collided.

“Watch where you’re going faggot!” the stranger sneered at Paul.

Paul face reddened in anger, but he quickly shoved it behind a calm mask.

“What the fuck man!” Daryl sad stepping in, “You’re the one who ran into him. You did it on purpose.”

Daryl’s only been here for 2 hours and he’s already done with the number of homophobic assholes in this place. This one was tall and lanky with long, greasy blonde hair.

“Better watch your mouth newbie,” the boy snapped at him before leaving.

“Thanks, but that wasn’t necessary,” Paul spoke softly after the boy left.

“Who was that guy? Part of Negan’s crew?” Daryl asked.

“Yeah, that one’s Dwight. He’s the newest addition to Negan’s gang. He’s really been playing it up since he got accepted, like he wants to prove to Negan how much he belongs in that group.”

Daryl sighed, he still couldn’t grasp why Paul was letting these guys push him around.

“Why do you take this kind of treatment? You have friends here, you know. Aaron, Eric, and now me.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want them involved. Negan terrorizes them enough, I don’t want to make it worse by asking them for help. And you don’t hold a lot of sway here yet.”

Daryl was disappointed with how easily Paul accepted this situation. At least he knew they couldn’t touch him physically, but Daryl knew from experience that emotional abuse was no better or perhaps even more damaging than physical abuse. Emotional trauma is harder to notice and harder to fix.

“Come on, we’re gonna be late to class,” Paul said changing the subject.

Daryl let him drop it, for now. But he wasn’t sure how long he would last before he knocked one of Negan’s gang members on their ass for harassing Paul.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos greatly appreciated! <3


End file.
